


Torchlight

by Malochroma



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Familial Bonds, Fantasy Adventure, Heart of Thorns Story, Living World Story, Moderate Canon Divergence later on, Multi, Path of Fire Story, Personal story, Ragtag Bunch of Misfits, Spoilers For All of the Above, but you made a bunch of cool friends so it's cool, depictions of ptsd, the real treasure was the dragons we killed along the way, when you just want to build guns and bake cookies but you end up saving all of tyria instead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malochroma/pseuds/Malochroma
Summary: Noblewoman and engineering prodigy Natalia Solane didn't wake up one morning and decide "hm, I think I'll join the war against the Elder Dragons," but that seems to be the path fate has set her on regardless. Driven by little more than gumption and grit, and aided by an equally driven and exceptionally diverse set of companions, she sets out to become what Tyria needs: a hero, a dragon slayer... a commander.





	1. The Sacking of Shaemoor

Yan Priestley was never an especially ambitious man. His dreams were always the simple and down-to-earth sort, because the man himself was the simple and down-to-earth sort. He wanted to find a woman he'd want to spend the rest of his life with. He wanted a small plot of land somewhere in Queensdale to grow vegetables and raise chickens. He wanted to see the carnival when it rolled into Divinity's Reach at the turn of the season.

And right now, with Shaemoor burning around him and the centaurs cutting down villagers left and right, Yan Priestley wanted nothing more than to _live_.

He ran through the fields, the staccato rhythm of his pounding heartbeat matched only by the thunderous hooves of the beast-men chasing after him. He needed to get to the inn. That's where the soldiers said it would be safe. They said to go to the inn with the rest of the villagers and stay there until the centaurs had been driven off. All Yan had to do was cross the fields and get to the inn before the centaurs reached him, and he would be fine. He was almost there. He would be _fine_.

Yan barely made it halfway across the field before the barbed head of a centaur arrow burrowed itself into his shoulder. The resulting agony drove him to the ground with a scream. His left arm and the entirety of his back felt like they were on fire, rivulets of liquid inferno coursing their way through his body that was quickly joined by jolts of terror as the pounding hooves drew closer. Yan reached his uninjured arm out and feebly dragged himself across the ground. He couldn't die here. He wanted to live, he had to live, he had to get to the _inn_ where it was _safe_.

A heavy hoof slammed against his back, further compounding the pain and pressing his face into the mud. Above him, he could hear a guttural voice laced with undisguised disgust. “ _Pathetic wretch,_ ” the voice spat.

Yan wanted to spit out some defiant last words, so that he could at least face Grenth with some semblance of dignity still intact, but the only thing he could do was let out was a wordless cry of pain. The centaur that had him trapped let out a scornful snort, and then he heard the fateful sound of an bowstring being drawn. And even though he wanted so desperately to be brave, to spite the centaurs by refusing to beg, Yan had to face the truth of the matter.

He was going to die.

Six Gods, _he didn't want to die._

_Bang!_

Wait a second. That wasn't the sound of death. That was the sound of a powder rifle firing.

Yan felt the weight of the centaur's hoof slide off his back, the voice of his attacker devolving into a gurgle followed by a large, low _thud_ directly to his left. Two more shots split the air, followed by two more _thuds_. Yan lay there in the mud for a few seconds, still as a statue, waiting for something to happen. When greeted with only silence, he slowly turned his head to face the source of the thud... and found himself face-to-face with the glassy eyes of his attacker, the blood still pouring out of the gunshot wound on its neck.

“Hey.” The new voice wasn't like the centaur's at all. It was a woman's voice, soft with concern but layered with an intonation that betrayed the speaker's high-born origins. “Are you all right?”

Yan groaned.

“Ah, right. That was a pretty stupid question, wasn't it?” A set of light, calloused fingers gently brush against his uninjured shoulder. “Listen, I can't pull the arrow out; that's already a bad idea with regular arrowheads, but Tamini arrows are barbed in such a way that I'd end up tearing apart your shoulder so badly no priestess could ever fix it. Honestly, I'm hesitant to even touch the damn thing. But I _can_ get you to the inn. They have healers there, priestesses who know how to safely remove Tamini arrows and treat the wounds. I'm going to pick you up in just a second. Are you ready?”

“Y-yeah.” Yan wasn't looking forward to it, but given that his other option was wasting away in the mud until some other brave soul found him lying there, he'd cope.

“Okay. All right, then,” the voice said, and there was the sound of shuffling feet as his savior maneuvered herself around him. “On the count of three, all right? One...” Fingers curled around his side. “Two...” Another hand came down to grip his right arm. “Three!” Yan was immediately hauled to his feet, right arm slung around an unfamiliar shoulder, and he couldn't help put let out another pained groan as his own shoulder screamed in protest. “Sorry!”

Yan managed an admittedly shaky smile. “H-hey, you just saved my life,” he pointed out. “Don't apologize. Though... maybe we could get to the inn a little faster. I think I hear more centaurs.”

“Right.” Yan's mysterious benefactor began to move them forward, half-carrying Yan as he hobbled beside her.

As the two of them staggered through the field, he sneaked a glance upward to try and get a glimpse of his savior's face. He didn't see much; the night was dark and the moonlight dim, and even the light of the fires burning in the distance did little to illuminate her features. What he did see was undeniably Krytan, with tan skin and features that held both a sharp maturity and an undeniable softness to them. Her eye – the one he could see, at least – was obscured, covered up by one of those monocle-things that he'd often seen engineers and repairmen wear as they toiled over minute details on convoluted contraptions that he couldn't possibly begin to discern the purpose of. At her throat, he could see a glimpse of dark silk; some sort of cravat, perhaps. “You ain't a soldier, are you?” he asks.

“What tipped you off?” the woman replied wryly.

“The clothes. The voice. The eyepiece. You're one of the nobles from Divinity's Reach. What are you doing down here while there's a centaur attack going on?”

The woman's answer was immediate.

“The same thing the Seraph are doing,” she said. “Protecting Shaemoor.”

* * *

_Shit._

Sergeant Walters looked around at the surrounding chaos, sword and warhorn drawn in case any of the centaurs got the bright idea of trying to attack the inn that she and her Seraph were protecting. As much as she hated to admit it, the situation was bad; Captain Thackeray and his men were still at the garrison, holding off the attack from the east, but that left the west open for the rest of the Tamini forces to come charging into the village. Without reinforcements, Shaemoor didn't stand a chance.

“Sergeant!”

Startled by the voice that didn't belong to one of her soldiers and _certainly_ didn't belong to any of the centaurs, Walters turned to see a young woman hobble towards her, with a powder rifle strapped to her back and a half-conscious man in her arms. “This man's been gravely injured, he needs a healer!”

Walters nodded curtly and turned to one of the nearby Seraph. “Rowe!” she snapped. “Get that man to one of the priestesses!” As the soldier took the injured man from the woman's arms and carried him inside the inn, taking care not to jostle the Tamini arrow jutting out of his shoulder, Walters turned her focus back to the woman. She was fairly young, probably no older than her mid-twenties, with a Krytan complexion and warm reddish-brown hair tied back into an elaborate, low-hanging braid. She wore a well-tailored, emerald-green leather coat with golden trim, and there was a flash of teal silk at her throat that indicated some sort of scarf or cravat. Her pants looked freshly pressed, free of dirt or wrinkles and pulled over a pair of fine leather boots, like the kind you'd see one of the fancy hobnobbing nobles of Beetletun wear. Definitely not the attire of your average farmer. What stood out the most, though, was the engineering monocle strapped across her left eye. “You there,” Walters said, “you're not one of the villagers. What are you doing out here?”

The noblewoman answered without hesitation. “I was passing through on my way to Claypool when the centaurs attacked. I want to help, if I can.” Her hand came up to rub at the side of her neck, where Walters could see the faint glint of a metal necklace chain that disappeared into her scarf. “I want to help the Seraph,” she repeated.

Clear voice, firm posture, not a single stutter or a syllable out of place. _Definitely some sort of noble._ Well, Walters didn't want to turn down help when it was offered, not when their situation was so precarious, but she also didn't want to put a civilian at risk. Then again, this civilian had already likely saved one man's life, and she wasn't exactly running into battle unarmed. “You know how to use that, citizen?”she asked, nodding to the powder rifle in question.

The noblewoman looked a little indignant over the question. “Of course I can,” she said. “I built it.”

 _Huh._ Not the answer Walters had been expecting, that's for certain. She was about to tell the noblewoman that if she really wanted to help, she could stay by the inn and fend off the Tamini like the rest of them, when a pale-faced and breathless private came running up to the two of them. “Sergeant!” she panted. “There are more centaurs at the garrison than we thought. We're getting hit from both sides, and we think there's a sage somewhere among them. Captain Thackeray's calling for reinforcements.”

And here Walters was, thinking things were bad before. Now there was a damned _sage_ to contend with, and it'd gotten to the point where Captain Logan Thackeray himself was calling for more help. “If the captain's calling for help, it must be serious, but I can't spare anyone,” she said with a frown. “The village's defenses are stretched thin enough as it is, and I don't want to risk the inn being overrun, not with all those refugees in there.”

“I'll go, then.”

Walters did a double take, focusing her attention back on the noblewoman. “What?”

“I'll go,” the noblewoman repeated firmly. It was then that Walters noticed how _green_ her visible eye was; even in the dim glow of the fires around them, its verdant hue shone through, further compounded by the sternness of her stare. “You need someone to go help Captain Thackeray?” the woman continued. “I'll be that someone. Just point me in the direction of the garrison.”

 _Well then._ “The garrison is east of here, just outside of town, past the fields and south of the graveyard entrance. You'd better hurry if you want to get there in time to be of any help.”

The woman nodded, turning on her heel and running down the eastern road to the garrison. As she left, one of the Seraph approached Walters. “Who _was_ that, Sergeant?” he asked.

“I don't know, soldier,” Walters replied, “but Balthazar bless us, she's got the sort of spirit that'll win this war.” She focused her attention back on the refugees pouring into the inn, readying her shield for any Tamini arrow that might be trained on them. “Now back to your position. We've still got people to protect.”

* * *

Captain Logan Thackeray and his soldiers were in a bad spot.

They had managed to hold off the Tamini forces... for a time. But after waves and waves of centaurs, exhaustion was beginning to weigh on the Seraph, and every minute they spent fighting was another inch of ground in the garrison lost to the centaurs. They needed something that could turn this around, and fast. Ideally _reinforcements_ , but Logan had sent word to the Seraph in the village a while ago, and it was becoming increasingly clear that they were on their own in this fight.

But that didn't mean he was going to surrender. He'd rather die than let Shaemoor be overrun. So as yet another wave of centaurs bore down upon them, Logan staunchly faced them down and rallied his fellow Seraph with a cry of, “Here they come again; man the defenses!”

But even as the Seraph charged forward with a resounding cry, determined to regain the ground they had lost, Logan worried. They couldn't keep this up forever, and it seemed like the centaurs could. He prayed to the Six Gods for a miracle.

The gods answered his prayers through the crack of a rifle shot, starting from behind him and blasting between the Seraph soldiers to reach the heart of one of the centaurs. His own heart leaping forward in his chest, Logan whirled around, expecting to see a troop of soldiers or even a mercenary who happened upon Shaemoor at an opportune time.

What he didn't expect to see was a young woman with a dark green coat and an engineer's monocle staring down the sights of a powder rifle. _What is she..._ “Citizen!” he shouted. “What are you doing here? Go back to the village, it's not safe here!”

“That's why we're here, isn't it? To make it safe again?” the civilian replied, casting a cursory glance his way as she reloaded. “Sergeant Walters sent me. Well, I volunteered to be sent, really.” She took aim and fired, hitting the shoulder of another centaur. “I want to help the Seraph, and Sergeant Walters can't spare anyone thanks the to centaurs coming in from the southwest. So, here I am.”

Centaurs from the southwest? Damn it, the situation was worse than he'd feared. It wasn't a complete disaster, however; if they could secure the garrison, Logan could move his soldiers to the village and bolster defenses there until they drove the centaurs back. But as long as they were fighting this battle on two fronts, they were in danger.

And he certainly wasn't going to turn down help when it was being willingly offered to him. Gift dolyaks and mouths, and all that. “All right,” he said. “If you want to help, I'll need you to keep behind the front line and provide supportive fire for my soldiers. Understood?”

The civilian nodded. “Yes, sir!”

“Good!”

As the civilian reloaded and took aim, her gaze hardening into a sharp glare as she focused on the centaurs, Logan rejoined the battle, charging towards a nearby Tamini and raising his shield just as it swung its axe down towards his head. Seizing the opportunity, Logan twisted his shield arm to knock the axe out of the Tamini's hand and struck at the exposed flesh of its stomach. Another centaur, this one wielding a spear and shield, turned on him, roaring in rage as it watched its brethren crumple to the ground. Logan readied his sword again, moving back to keep out of the range of the centaur's spear as it unleashed a flurry of strikes against him. As soon as he saw his opening, he ducked underneath the staff of the spear and closed the gap between them, rendering the spear's superior reach useless and cutting his foe down with a swift and decisive blow. Around him, the other Seraph were beginning to rally and push the centaur wave back, boosted by the green-coated woman's unerringly-aimed supporting fire.

A blur of movement out of the corner of Logan's eye caught his attention, and he turned to see that one of the centaurs had broken away from the formation and was charging towards the civilian. _Damn it!_ Logan moved to chase after the centaur, but he was too late; by the time he would be able to reach the centaur, it would already reach its target.

The civilian, to Logan's surprise, didn't flinch as the centaur bore down on her. As the centaur swung its sword outward, Logan expected to see her cut down – what was he _thinking_ , letting a citizen join the battle like this, she was going to get killed and it would be his fault for letting her stay – but he was stunned to see her _roll_ underneath the arc of the blade, ducking beneath its deadly edge with inches to spare and coming to a crouch _underneath_ the centaur's belly. Before it even had time to figure out where she was, the civilian slammed the butt of her rifle against one of the centaur's legs. The centaur's knees buckled beneath it, and as soon as its belly fell against the muzzle of the rife, the civilian pulled the trigger. The centaur shuddered against the force of the gunshot before collapsing to the ground, leaving the woman unharmed.

That was not a maneuver she came up with just this moment. It _couldn't_ have been; between her unwavering demeanor as the centaur had charged her and the fact that she knew exactly how to hold the rifle so that the muzzle would be lined up perfectly with where she needed it to be... _She's fought centaurs before,_ Logan realized with a start. _When and why has someone from the city fought centaurs?_

He didn't get the chance to ask further. Another wave of centaurs appeared across the garrison's south bridge, and Logan barely had time to think. “Citizen!” he shouted. “Get to the ramparts and take out as many crossing the bridge as you can! Be careful; I think I see a couple archers!” If she could kill a few centaurs before they even reached the garrison, that would take some of the pressure off of his soldiers and give them more time to rally. It would _also_ put her somewhat out of harms way, assuming she could stay clear of the archers' aim.

The civilian nodded her head in understanding and made a beeline towards the ramps leading upwards. It turned out he didn't need to worry about the archers hitting her; they were her first target as soon as she reached the ramparts. That was good news for his soldiers, as well; not having to worry about supporting fire on the Tamini's side meant that they could focus their efforts on clearing out the Tamini that had closed the gap and were trying to engage them at close range. Eventually, the centaurs began to falter, their formations beginning to fracture as a few of them faltered at the far side of the bridge. “They're beginning to back off, sir!” one of the Seraph shouted.

“We've got them off balance!” Logan replied. “Maintain the pressure, don't let them regain that ground!”

Step by step, inch by inch, they pushed the centaurs back beyond the gates. Logan could feel relief and triumph replace the dread he'd been harboring not five minutes ago. Somehow, with one well-placed riflewoman, they'd managed to turn this mess around. All they had to do was keep putting pressure on the rapidly declining moral of the remaining centaurs, and they would be able to close the garrison's gates and focus their attention fully on protecting the town itself. The Tamini were already retreating, just a few more minutes–

“Captain!” The civilian's panicked voice caught his attention, and Logan looked up to see her staring at something in the distance, her visible eye wide with distress. “There's a sage inbound!”

 _Of course there is._ As if this battle hadn't been difficult enough, now the centaurs had a spellcaster on their side. Logan had a bit of magic of his own, defensive and healing spells as was typical of a guardian, but while his barriers could hold up against some of the powerful earth magic that the centaurs could command, even he could only do so much.

As the last of the centaurs either fell or retreated and his soldiers moved into a defensive formation, Logan could see the sage appear in the distance, stopping just at the far end of the drawbridge. This one was bigger, with larger horns shaggy gray fur covering its more equine parts as opposed to the shorter brown fur of the Tamini. _A Modniir,_ Logan realized. _Fantastic._ The Modniir were both larger and tougher than their Tamini cousins, and their sages always proved to be a difficult match for even the most grizzled veteran.

“Cowards!” the sage spat at the fleeing Tamini as they galloped past him and retreated to the hills. “Enough of this. I will deal with this matter myself.”

“Oh, no, you don't!”

The civilian's voice caught Logan's attention from up above. He glanced upward in time to see her take aim and fire. But the sage had already anticipated her move and reacted appropriately, erecting a pillar of stone for the shot to strike harmlessly in lieu of Modniir flesh. “Bah!” the sage scoffed. “Is that your best, human?” It gestured, calling forth a large earthen clump that it then sent flying towards the ramparts.

The mass hit the woman square in the center of her chest faster than she could react, and she let out a yelp of surprise and pain as she was knocked off the ramparts and to the ground below. “No!” Logan shouted. Before he had a chance to focus on her, though, the sage cast another spell, a blast of forceful energy that barreled across the drawbridge at blistering speed. Immediately drawing upon every ounce of faith he had – faith in the gods, in his Seraph, in _Jennah_ – Logan counters with his own magic, putting up a barrier in front of his soldiers that blocked the energy.

The sage's response is a laugh that sounds more like a whinny than anything. “Do you really think you can defeat me?” it called from across the bridge. As it spoke, Logan felt the earth tremble underneath him and powerful magic radiate from all around. _That's... not good._

“Captain...!” one of the soldiers shouted.

“I know!” Logan replied. “Just hold your ground; we can't allow them to overwhelm the garrison!” If the garrison fell, so would Shaemoor.

With a cry of “ _Rise!_ ” the Modniir called forth its summons. Out of the dirt rose beings built entirely of earth and stone, clawing their way to the surface and turning their attention to the garrison and the soldiers that protected it. The threat that the new elemental army posed was quickly dwarfed, however, as a pair of massive arms began to burst from the ground, glowing with a powerful magic and surrounded by swirling debris. As the arms rose, the Modniir fell, life fully drained by the demands of such a powerful spell. “By all Six Gods...” a nearby Seraph gasped. “What is that thing? It's huge!”

“That, soldier,” Logan responded, readying his sword, “is a threat. And we're going to take it down. Forward!” As his soldiers charged into the fray, Logan turned his attention towards the civilian. He feared that all he would find was her crumpled form laying still on the ground, but to his surprise she was getting to her feet, one hand gently cradling her ribs while the other gripped a small, brass object the size and shape of a pocket watch. In fact, Logan thought it _was_ a pocket watch at first, but as he drew closer and felt the strange shift in the air he realized that couldn't be the case. It must have been some sort of healing device that relied on the ambient magic in the air, probably asura in design. “You're in pretty good shape, considering you just took a boulder to the chest.”

The civilian shot a slightly pained grin his direction and gestured to the device in her right hand. “That's because I've got this. Helps me to stay going if I'm in a bit of a rough patch. I'll...” She winced. “I'll _probably_ need to see a priestess when all of this is over, but for now I'll be fine. _Don't_ ,” she insisted when Logan raised his hand out towards her, drawing forth some healing magic. “I already told you, I'm fine for now. Don't waste your magic on me.”

“All right.” Logan regarded her as she knelt down to retrieve her powder rifle, which had miraculously escaped both the sage's attack and the resulting fall undamaged. “So where'd you learn how to fight centaurs? That trick you used against the one that charged you didn't look like the technique of a novice.”

“Trial and error.” The civilian stood up straight, giving the barrel of her gun a brief once over before meeting his gaze. “Call me a hands-on learner.”

Logan was struck by how impossibly green her visible eye was. It was a rich, brilliant hue that shone even through the dim moonlight in a manner. The color seemed almost... familiar? In fact, the more he looked at her, the more her facial features struck him as being eerily reminiscent of someone he'd met before.

He couldn't remember the name, though, even when it was dancing on the edge of his mind, and he didn't have time to ask. A crashing sound caught both his and the civilian's attentions, and they both turned to see that the arms of the giant, submerged elemental were growing larger, the swirling energy surrounding them tearing up the nearby ground and adding it to their earthen forms. “Come on!” he shouted, running across the drawbridge and joining the fight.

Earth elementals weren't exactly the _easiest_ things to kill with a sword, not that that was going to stop Logan. Their rocky forms made reaching their vulnerable core of magic within difficult, and one blow from their powerful limbs could send a grown man flying. But together, he and the civilian managed to fend them off, with her using the force of her rifle shots to blast the rocks away while Logan went after the newly-exposed cores. But for every elemental that they killed, for every elemental one of the Seraph killed, another would rise. And while his soldiers would eventually tire out from the endless fighting, the elementals experienced no such disadvantage. If they wanted to take down the stone army, they'd have to go after the source. “We need to take down the big one in the center!” he yelled.

“Right!” The civilian danced out of the reach of one of the elementals, blasting it away with a well-aimed shot before turning to face the titanic arms slowly pulling themselves from the ground. “Right, right,” she repeated, more to herself than to Logan as she ran a critical eye over the scene in front of her. She was so focused on the giant elemental, she didn't see the one looming behind her.

Logan, however, did. “Look out!” he shouted before throwing himself in between the civilian and the elemental and raising his shield to block just as the latter brought its arm down in an overhead strike. The blow sent a numbing shock up his arm, and he gritted his teeth against the force weighing down on him. The civilian whirled around with a wide eye, only now recognizing the immediate threat and acting. She quickly pulled something from her coat – Logan could only barely make out its spherical form in the dim moonlight – and lobbed it at the elemental before immediately reaching out for Logan, grabbing at his arm and tugging him back. “Shield up, shield up, _shield up!_ ”

Logan had a sneaking suspicion she wasn't talking about the shield on his arm and quickly cast forth a barrier just as the elemental in front of them exploded, sending bits of rock and debris flying everywhere except for the small spot the two of them occupied. “What was that?” Logan asked.

“Grenade.”

“Ah.” Of course. Another trick up her sleeve. Between that, the rifle, and whatever she had used to patch herself up back in the garrison, Logan was starting to suspect that she was more than even an average noblewoman. “You need to keep a better eye on your surroundings. If I hadn't been there, that thing would have bashed your head in.” He still didn't know what she was thinking, running into battle with only the leather of her coat to protect her. He supposed that she had been banking on the distance afforded by her weapon to be her armor, but that didn't help her here, not when elementals could appear literally anywhere there was dirt.

The civilian's bright green gaze had already refocused on the giant elemental, and for a few brief seconds he was half-certain she hadn't heard him. But she did answer. “I know, I just... I've almost got this figured out, just give me a few...” A light seemed to spark in her eyes, a flare of realization as if she's just figured out the solution to a complex riddle. “So _that's_ it... it's like a building!” she exclaimed. “The walls can be rebuilt, but take out the _supports_... Captain, do you see the vines woven through the debris in the elemental's body?” She pointed.

Logan turned to get a better look. Sure enough, he could see faint lines of green weaving their way through the rocks that made up the greater form of the arms. The civilian's meaning immediately became clear to him. “Those are what's keeping it together,” he said. “If we focus on those, sever them...”

“Then the whole thing will come crashing down,” the civilian finished. “If you and your men focus on the foundation and keep it from regenerating, I can take out the higher vines.”

Logan had to admit, she had a keen eye. “All right. But keep an eye out, all right? The smaller ones will do anything to keep us from bringing the large one down.”

The civilian shot him a wry smirk, the lens of her engineering monocle gleaming brilliantly as it caught the faint light of the moon. “You don't have to worry about me, captain,” she told him. “This isn't my first battle.”

This wasn't the first battle of any of his soldiers, either, but there was always a chance it would be their last. Before Logan could remind the civilian of this, however, she was already off, dodging and weaving between the elementals that moved to stop her. As she ran, she fired at the greater elemental, hitting the vines between the rocks with surprising accuracy. Logan turned to the Seraph. “Focus your efforts on the greater elemental!” he ordered. “Destroy the foundation, keep it from growing! If we take it down, the rest will fall with it!”

The Seraph heeded his words and turned their attentions to the hands. A few, Logan included, remained in the field to keep the attentions of the lesser elementals trained away from them. As the attack raged on, the hands began to tremble, weakened both by the assault on the foundation and the relentless volley of rifle bullets from the citizen. Rocks began to break free and crash to the ground, only narrowly missing the soldiers below. “It's starting to fall apart!” Logan shouted. “Keep fighting! Fight for everything you hold dear!” The sight of the elemental beginning to crumble boosted his own morale, and he channeled that into his barrier, forcing the lesser elementals in front of him back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the civilian pause for a brief second, assessing the current situation. Then she pulled what looked like another grenade from her pouch, took aim, and threw it as hard as she could at the glowing ball of energy and floating debris held between the elemental's hands.

The resulting explosion at the center of it all was the final push the already-weak elemental needed. It began to tremble, its form glowing with a dangerous light as the entire thing broke apart and began to float to the now-unstable energy. “Everyone, get out of the way!” Logan shouted. “I think it's going to explode!”

And explode it did; Logan barely had time to reinforce and expand his barrier to protect nearby Seraph as, with a flash of blinding light, the elemental erupted into a cascade of earth that showered down upon them, beating down on armor and hastily-raised shields and eliciting cries of surprise and pain from the surrounding Seraph. Around them, without a source of magic to keep them animated, the lesser elementals collapsed into piles of debris. After a few seconds, the last rock hit the ground, and all grew quiet.

After a few tense seconds, Logan broke the silence. “Report!”

“Sir!” one of the Seraph replied. “Several injures, mostly from that final. A... a few casualties.”

 _Damn it._ Logan knew the risks of combat, but he never liked losing men. “All right,” he said, letting his barrier drop. “Someone fetch the priestesses. We need to tend to our wounded and collect the dead. Anyone else who can still fight should rally with Sergeant Walters and help her drive the rest of the centaurs from the village.” With the sage dead, the remaining Tamini would most likely scatter, returning to the hills to the south.

“Right away, sir!” the Seraph said with a nod, before turning and heading towards the garrison alongside several others. Logan watched them go for a few seconds before letting out a sigh, allowing the weight of the battle to sink it. It had been a close fight. _Too_ close. That had been more than just a skirmish, it had been an assault. The centaurs were growing bolder, and that could only spell bad things for the people of Kryta.

“Captain!” A soldier's shout caught Logan's attention, and he turned to see a Seraph kneeling on the ground, looking at him over her shoulder with a concerned expression on her face. “You... you should come see this, sir. It's... it's the civilian, she's...”

 _No._ Logan dropped his sword in shock. _No, no, no!_ He raced over to where the Seraph was kneeling, and his fears were confirmed when he saw a familiar green-clad form sprawled on the ground. The citizen lay still, blood pooling under her head from the deep, ragged gashes on her forehead and shoulder. She must have been hit by debris when the elemental exploded. And without a shield or barrier... “Is she...?”

“She's alive, sir, but barely.”

 _Damn it._ “Get a priestess, now,” Logan said. The citizen had risked her life defending people, not out of duty but out of some unspoken personal drive. He wasn't about to let her die here.

The Seraph hesitated. “Sir, there's more.” She held out what looked to be a set of Seraph tags, dangling from a destroyed chain. “She was wearing these. Look at the name.”

Seraph tags? What was she doing with those? Logan took the offered tags and examined them more closely. The name on the tags had been mostly worn away and the moonlight provided little illumination, but he could still faintly see the letters engraved into the steel.

_Deborah Solane._

Oh, no. “Priestess,” Logan repeated. _“Now._ ”

“Yes, sir.”

As the Seraph left to fetch one of the priestesses of Dwayna from the village, Logan stared down at the unconscious woman in front of her. Suddenly a lot more about her made sense; the familiarity of her features, the exceptional hue of her eyes, the way she had volunteered herself to help fight off the centaurs...

“Of all the people in Divinity's Reach who could have come to Shaemoor's aid,” Logan sighed, “it ended up being _you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mal don't you have two other fics to work on why post a new one" Because shush, that's why.
> 
> Wasn't originally gonna post this fic, but then I remembered that I really like it when people read the things I write, so here you go.
> 
> Also, if you need a better idea of Mysterious Green-Coat Lady's outfit, here's a link to a screenshot (once you take out the spaces and parantheses, mind): http : / / i (.) imgur (.) com / bgsCO6f (.) png


	2. Solane

 

Lady Allegra Solane was known for many things.

She was known for her significant financial investments in the Lionguard forces, especially the ones at Claw Island that kept the undead forces of the dragon Zhaitan at bay. She was known for her poise and political sharpness that had earned her the respect, if not the love, of most of the nobles in Divinity's Reach. She was known for her unorthodox choices in home and family, having shocked her peers by adopting two young orphan girls off the streets twenty years prior and raising them as her own. And, above all of that, she was known for her unforgiving nature. Those who had crossed her in the past had their lives made miserable by her; a few clever tugs of the bureaucratic webs that entangled most of the upper class's dealings and suddenly people found their businesses blocked and their funds drained form their ledgers. Ruthless, her political rivals called her. An advantageous ally, but a dangerous enemy.

And here Logan was, the morning after the battle, looking down at the still-unconscious form of her youngest daughter, Natalia Solane. _This is only going to cause more trouble for the Seraph._ Lady Solane already hated him, and he had to admit that she wasn't entirely without reason. Her eldest daughter, Deborah Solane, had been a sergeant of the Seraph up until her entire squad had been wiped out in a centaur ambush. All that had remained of the attack was Deborah's tags, which Logan had personally delivered to her mother and which now laid at Natalia's throat, the replacement chain around her neck gleaming in the morning sun.

Many thought that Lady Solane's adoption of her daughters had been a move meant to attract the support of the people, a calculated act of compassion that would leave the common citizens praising her charity. But Logan knew better, if only for the hateful glare she'd given him when he told her of Deborah's fate, and every time she'd passed him in the streets since. She cared about her daughters, and she blamed him for her eldest's death. Logan had no doubt she'd blame him for the current state of her youngest, as well. After all, he should have turned her away at the garrison, kept her from the fighting...

 _No,_ he told himself. She wouldn't have listened; the look in her eyes had been indication enough of that. Now that he knew who she was and what the centaurs had taken from her, he was more sure of that more than ever. And even if she would have left had he ordered her to, it had been her keen eye, sharp aim, and understanding of the elemental's construction that had allowed them to _de_ construct it and stop the sage's summoned army from overtaking the garrison. Her presence on the battlefield had saved lives.

But he doubted that Lady Solane would see it that way. And while she didn't scare him the way she did others, the last thing he needed was for yet _another_ noble to be poking around in the affairs of the Seraph. “Are you _sure_ she's going to be all right?” he asked the priestess of Dwayna in charge of tending to the injured.

At this point, the priestess could only roll her eyes as she wrapped the ankle of one of the villagers, a young boy of around thirteen who'd tripped on a root and twisted his foot while running from the centaurs. “Yes,” she said, checking her work to make sure the boy's bandages were secure, “I'm sure. As I was sure the last _four times_ you asked, Captain. Her injuries may have been severe, but I was able to heal her before she lost too much blood. She'll wake up within a day or two.”

“Good.” Maybe she could be the one to explain the situation to her mother, then. Logan suspected that Lady Solane would take the news better from her own daughter, and it would keep the heat off of the Seraph, at least for a little bit.

He glanced over at the woman... Natalia... again. In the morning light, the resemblance to her sister was stronger than ever; while Deborah had been darker-haired and slightly taller in comparison to her copper-haired younger sister, their both shared the same sharp features, the same tawny Krytan complexion, and, if what Logan had seen the night before was any indication, the same striking green eyes. Natalia's emerald coat had torn when she was struck by the debris, and had subsequently been removed and put aside alongside the teal cravat, reinforced leather boots, and fingerless gloves to reveal a sleeveless blouse and yellow waistcoat over a pair of black slacks. Definitely well-tailored, but practical, more so than the usual upper-class fare. She'd been expecting to get her hands dirty at some point when she left Divinity's Reach. They hadn't been able to find her rifle; it had likely been destroyed when the elemental exploded.

“Did you hear what they're calling her out there?” he asked the priestess.

The priestess nodded. “'The Hero of Shaemoor,'” she recited. “It's quite the title.”

“It's a fitting one. Things could have gone a lot worse if it hadn't been for her help.” He spared one final, concerned glance towards the hero in question before moving towards the door. “I should go. I've got a lot of work I need to get done.” Informing the families of fallen Seraph was always a sad duty, and it was one he shouldered alone. Those left behind deserved to know as soon as possible.

“Of course, captain. And take it easy; just because you can heal yourself doesn't mean you can just go throwing yourself back into the fight right away.”

That wasn't for him to decide; if his queen needed him to fight, he would, happily and without question. But the stern expression on the priestess's face told him that wasn't the answer she was looking for, so instead he said, “I'll be sure to remember that. Thank you,” and left.

In the light of day, the damage inflicted upon Shaemoor was readily apparent. Roofs had been blown off of houses, exposing them to the elements, and scorch marks stained the walls and fences. Despite everything that had happened the previous night, however, the villagers were hard at work rebuilding, bringing in lumber from the nearby mill and clearing out the damaged crops. The one thing that humanity had that couldn't be torn apart by centaurs or burnt away by charr was their determination; _knock us down_ , Logan thought, _and we'll get right back up again._

Lost in thought as he headed up the hill towards Divinity's Reach, Logan didn't notice the brown-haired young man running towards him until the two almost collided. “Ah, Captain Thackeray!” the man said, dipping into a dramatic bow. “Good to see you! I was worried I had missed you.”

Logan recognized the man, a foppish and womanizing nobleman from the Salma District by the name of Faren. He was a man with a rather inflated sense of self-importance and a vain streak, so it was surprising to see him running about amid the dust and ashes left behind by the centaur attack. “Lord Faren,” Logan said, his voice clipped. “What are you doing here?”

Looking a bit put off by Logan's brusqueness, Faren adjusted his crimson cravat. “Why, I'm here to see my friend. I hear she got herself involved in quite the scuffle last night.”

“If you want to call an unparalleled assault on Shaemoor by centaurs a 'scuffle,' sure,” Logan deadpanned. He had little patience for out-of-touch nobles in general, but he _really_ didn't have patience for Faren's antics “Who exactly are you looking for?”

“Ah, that would be Natalia. A tall Krytan woman, auburn hair, probably wearing a frankly irresponsible amount of green...?”

It was still early in the morning, and yet Logan was still certain that this would be the most surprising news he would heard all day. “ _You're_ friends with Natalia Solane?” he asked. He didn't think Faren had any female friends, given his lecherous attitude. Then again, if there was any woman who could knock some sense into him, it'd be Lady Allegra's daughter.

“I'll have you know, Captain,” Faren said , puffing his chest out in indignation, “that I have been friends with the Solane sisters since we were still playing with wooden swords. As soon as I heard the news of Natalia's involvement in the recent skirmish, I simply had to come down to find her. It wouldn't do for people to be congratulating our new hero before I get a chance, of course. Also, I... wished to avoid getting caught in her mother's wrath,” he added, glancing down at the ground sheepishly. “Speaking of which, if you're planning on going on patrol today, do try to avoid taking and routes through Salma. Lady Solane's been in a terrible mood ever since she received word about what happened.”

Faren might have been a lech and an idiot, but Logan couldn't deny he had a good heart where it counted. “I'll keep that in mind,” he said, making a mental note to arrange his Seraph patrols accordingly. “If you want to see Natalia, she's down in the village, where the priestesses are tending the wounded. She's still unconscious, though, so I don't think you'll be able to do much congratulating just yet.”

“Oh, don't you worry about that, Captain!” Faren declared. “I'm sure that she'll wake up as soon as I arrive!”

With that, he turned and headed down into the village. Logan watched him go for a moment before shaking his head and continuing his ascent up the hill. “I don't know who I pity more,” he muttered, imagining the no-nonsense priestess's reaction to Faren, “him or the priestess.” His mind wandered briefly back to the matter of Natalia. As nonsensical as it was, part of him hoped that Faren was right about her waking up soon. She'd all but thrown herself into the line of fire to protect these people; he didn't want to think about the idea of her not waking up.

Logan quickly put those thoughts out of his mind as he reached the city gates. He had work to do.

* * *

Natalia woke up to a blistering headache and a numbing ache in her limbs. “Ow,” she groaned, weakly raising her arm to rub at her forehead and cracking one eye open slightly. That turned out to be a mistake, as the brilliant sunlight streaming in through the window overhead amplified her headache to near unbearable levels. “Urgh, _owww_...” She rolled over on her side covering her eyes to block out the offending light.

Wait a minute. Her bed was on the wall perpendicular to that of her bedroom window precisely to avoid the sun getting into her eyes in the morning, and she didn't have any windows that high above bed-level. Where was she?

She opened her eyes again, bracing herself against the harsh throbbing at the back of her head, and looked around. Wherever she was, it wasn't the Solane estate. She was laying on a thin bedroll in a small cabin, next to several other bedrolls all occupied by people in various states of injury. Her coat was lying neatly folded beside her, next to her boots, gloves, cravat and engineering monocle. “What... where...” Natalia struggled to sit up, but another jolt of pain sent her reeling.

A hand comes down to rest firmly on her shoulder, keeping her steady as she pulled herself up. “Easy there. You still haven't completely recovered.”

Natalia blinked away the haziness that clouded her vision and glanced up to see a priestess of Dwayna smiling reassuringly down at her. “Recovered?” she repeated. “What are you... oh.” The memories of the previous night's events come back to her all at once. The centaurs attacking, the elemental, the debris raining down and... _oh_. She remembered now; she'd been struck by a rock from the elemental after she'd blown up its energy source with the grenade. She filed _that_ little off-the-cuff plan under “impractical methods of dealing with elementals” and took another look around the room as her headache began to subside. “How long have I been out?”

“Three days.”

“Three _days_?” Her mother was going to _kill_ her.

The priestess nodded. “Your injuries were severe; if Captain Thackeray hadn't come to your aid when he did, you might not have made it.” She tilted Natalia's head up, peering intently into her eyes for any signs of lingering disorientation. “You had lots of visitors. Villagers you rescued, some Seraph, and even a noble from the city. He came by several times.”

“That'd be Faren,” Natalia mumbled. “I promise he's not as insufferable as he seems.”

The priestess chuckles. “He was certainly... interesting.”

“You know, you can say 'complete idiot,' it's all right.”

“Well, I don't think I would go that far. He _did_ have a habit of talking the ear off anyone who got to close. Mostly about _himself_ , but he did mention you a few times.” Seemingly satisfied that Natalia wasn't concussed, the priestess pulled away and got to her feet. “Well, you'll still be feeling some pain for a couple of days, and I wouldn't go bear wrestling any time soon if I were you, but you should be fine.”

Natalia pulled herself to her feet, placing a hand on the nearby wall to steady herself as she did. “Thanks. I was actually meaning to head down to Claypool when I left the city. I heard there's a honey farmer near there who sells the most amazing honey, and I had this new idea for a recipe that–” She caught herself mid-sentence. “Sorry, I almost started rambling there. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Of course,” the priestess said. “You know, fresh air and exercise are the best medicine. If you're meaning to head down to Claypool, I'm sure there's something you could do to help people out along the way. Shaemoor's not the only village that could use a hero, after all.”

“Oh, of course, I'm always happy to help.” Natalia reached down for her coat. “Any ideas on where I should start out?”

* * *

“Right, so what do you need me to do?”

Once Natalia had gotten dressed and found a merchant who could sell her a new powder rifle – the one she'd made for herself had been lost in the explosion and she didn't have the time to rebuild it just yet – she'd set out to follow the priestess's advice about lending aid along the way to Claypool. It turned out that she didn't need to go far to find someone who was looking for a hand; a nearby farm was having troubles keeping their crops and cows safe from bandits and infestations.

“See those wurm holes in the ground?” the farmer, Diah, said, pointing to the large burrows that dotted the hay field. “I need you to help fill them up and deal with any of the wurms that come out. They keep scattering my hay and ruining my corn, and if they keep it up I won't have much of either come harvest time. And try and keep the cows happy while you're doing it; the wurms tend to make them nervous.”

“Got it.” Natalia vaulted over the fence and headed out into the fields, getting to work on filling in the wurm holes. Every few minutes a wurm would pop out of the ground and she would smash it with the butt of her rifle, but apart from that it was a pretty quiet job.

After about the seventh hole, she felt an unfamiliar gaze fall upon her, boring into the back of her head. Turning around, Natalia saw that one of the cows was staring at her, its ears alert and its tail wrapped between its legs. “Hey, girl,” Natalia said gently. “Is something the matter?” The cow took a couple of hesitant steps forward before immediately retreating. “Don't like the wurms, huh? I don't blame you; their bites are pretty nasty. Everything's okay, though, I'm clearing the place out, see?” She slowly reached her hand out to the cow, being careful not to make any sudden movements; the last thing she needed right now was _another_ head injury.

The cow perked forward slightly, and slowly walked forward until it was close enough for Natalia to feel its breath on her fingertips. It seemed to relax a little, so Natalia took a chance and leaned in closer so she could gently stroke its head. “See, girl?” Natalia murmured. “Everything's just fine. I just gotta finish clearing the rest of the wurm holes and then everything will be as right as rai–”

She was cut off by a low rumbling from the earth. The cow reared back, mooing in panic, and Natalia immediately pulled out of kicking range. _An earthquake? No, this feels different, like... uh oh._ “Diah!” she shouted, and rolled out of the way just as a massive wurm burst from the ground with an ear-rending screech. The force of the eruption sent her flying forward a couple feet, hitting the ground with a _thud_ only to get right back up again.

Diah ran up to the field's fence. “Damn it!” she cried, sounding more annoyed than scared. “Giant worms, now? Why can't they just go make holes in someone else's field?”

“It won't be making holes in _anyone's_ field, soon!” Natalia replied, drawing her rifle and loading a round. “Stay back, I don't want anyone getting hurt!”

She had only a few brief seconds to act, so act she did. Catching the attention of the wurm with a sharp whistle, Natalia began to run in a wide arc around it, firing off a couple of shots meant more to aggravate than to harm. The wurm took the bait, letting out an enraged screech and lunging towards her, jaws open for the kill. But Natalia had an advantage the wurm didn't, and that was range of movement. All she had to do was dive to the ground a couple feet out of its reach, leaving it to struggle against its earthen restraints in a futile attempt to catch her with its deadly mandibles and either swallow her whole or drag her underground into its winding tunnels, never to see the light of day again.

Natalia wasn't going to give it the satisfaction. Jumping to her feet, she pulled a grenade from her tool pouch and, in one swift motion, pulled the pin and lobbed it into the wurm's mouth. As the creature reared back a bit, Natalia took advantage of the precious few seconds she had and charged forward, stopping just in front of the wurm's gaping maw. She knocked the back of her boot's heel against the ground, activating the hidden mechanism with in and triggering a burst of flames to spew from the heel that she then used to kick the wurm right in the face, scorching its delicate, slimy skin and causing it to rise up in fury at the same time the the force of the flames flung Natalia back several feet. The wurm reared up, let out an enraged shriek...

And promptly exploded, dousing both Natalia and the surrounding fields in wurm guts.

“Well,” Diah said from the safety of the fence, untouched by the gory spectacle. “That might just have been the second most disgusting thing I've seen today.”

“I dread to think what the _most_ disgusting thing you've seen is,” Natalia muttered, yanking her engineering monocle off her head and wiping the lens off with one of the few cleans spots of her coat. She cleared her throat. “Sorry about your fields, by the way.”

Diah shrugged. “It's all right. Those fields have seen far worse. Hey, perhaps it'll even make for good fertilizer. I appreciate your help; I doubt me or Jeb could've handled that thing on our own.” She jabbed a finger towards her farm. “'Fraid we don't have a whole lot to offer, but we _do_ have a bucket 'round the back side of the windmill that you can use to clean yourself off.”

“Thanks,” Natalia said, looking down at her wurm-soaked coat. “That sounds... just great.”

* * *

“Hey, put that down!”

When Natalia had agreed to help a moa farmer recover some lost chicks, dealing with bandits had not been part of the agreement. And yet here she was, staring down the barrel of an honestly quite poorly-constructed pistol as the moa chick in her arms squirmed and chirped in fright. “I hope you realize there's at _least_ a twenty percent chance that your pistol is going to blow up in your hand and you're going to lose at least three of your fingers. Really, who built your gun? I was making deadlier cork guns when I was twelve.”

“Hey, shut up!” The bandit jabbed the pistol in Natalia's face. “Look, this doesn't have to be difficult. Just but the damn bird back where it belongs, okay?”

“That's what I'm _doing_. This chick doesn't belong to you or your friends, it belongs to Cassie and Mepi.”

“Yes, well, we went through a lot of effort to get those chicks, so you'd better put that one back in the cage or we're going to have some problems, you hear me?”

The bandit's bluster would be a lot more effective if it weren't for just how terrible his weapon was. Honestly, Natalia was more offended that he was trying to intimidate her with such shoddy craftsmanship. “What do you even need with these birds for, anyway? Who's ever heard of bandits stealing moa chicks?”

The bandit scoffed and puffed out his chest. “We're gonna raise them! The boss wants us to have a group of attack moas to scare farmers with!”

“...Attack moas.”

“Yeah!” the bandit said, nodding. “The boss got the idea from a ranger he saw who was runnin' around with a pet moa. The damn thing was _vicious_ , peckin' everything in sight. So the boss thought that he could do the same thing with lots of moas, so we could raid ranches easier!”

“I see, makes sense.” It didn't make sense at all. “And does your little trouble of brigands have a ranger on hand?”

“No, but it can't be that hard to raise a bunch of stupid birds, right?”

“Uh huh.” Natalia was pretty sure she had a good read of the situation now, that situation being that the bandit threatening her with a gun was not very bright. There was also the non-zero chance that the gun with backfire on him, but that still left the non-zero chance that it _wouldn't_. Natalia wasn't the sort to hedge her bets – you don't get anywhere as an engineer without taking a little risk, after all – but if she could get out of this without a bullet wound, she'd be all the happier for it. So she tried a different tactic, one she picked up from years of watching her mother play the game of politics. “Did you hear about the centaur attack on Shaemoor a few nights ago?”

The bandit did a double take. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you heard about it. It was a pretty intense fight, I heard. Seraph versus centaurs, and all that. There was even a sage that summoned a giant earth elemental that Logan Thackeray himself fought! Though, I hear that he had help from one of the nobles from Divinity's Reach.” She swayed back and forth in such a manner as to deliberately draw attention to the sway of her coat and the way the light caught off the emerald-dyed leather. “A noblewoman with a powder rifle... and a green coat...”

The bandit caught on. “Aw, shit.”

“Mm, quite. So here's what's going to happen.” Natalia gestured to the moa chick in her arms. “I am going to take this baby bird back to its ranch, and you are going to let me.”

The bandit hesitated; Natalia could see the unsteadiness of the pistol as he wavered. Eventually he swore under his breath and holstered the gun. “You know what? Fine. The boss doesn't pay me enough to deal with Seraph problems. Take the bird and get out of here.”

“Thank you,” Natalia said. As the bandit shoved past her and headed back into the caves where the rest of the hideout was, she called, “You know, you could always find legitimate work. Get a proper gun instead of that patchwork mess, and you could help farmers keep their fields clear of trouble, or protect traders looking for escorts through Queensdale...”

“Can it!” the bandit called. “Just 'cause I ain't gonna shoot you doesn't mean I wanna be preached to. If I want a lecture on my path in life, I'll kidnap a priest.”

“Ah. Fair enough, I guess.” Natalia said. She'd spent long enough in the caves, anyway. Turning around, she began to head out. She was grateful that ended without her or the chick getting injured. _Never let anyone say there's no merit to using words as weapons._

Her mother had taught her and Debs as much.

Running a comforting thumb through the nervous chick's downy feathers, Natalia whispered, “Don't worry, sweetie. We'll get you home real soon, so just hold tight, okay?”

“ _Awk!_ ”

“...Okay, maybe hold tight a little _quieter_ than that.”

“ _Chrrp?_ ”

“That's better.”

* * *

Natalia had finally reached Claypool. After making a brief stop by the nearby bee farm to get that honey she'd originally set out to get, she headed into town. She always enjoyed her visits to Claypool. The people always greeted her with a smile and a wave, the natural walls provided by the hills gave a sense of security and protection from the bandits and centaurs, and of course there was the matter of both the nearby farms that were only more than happy to sell her some of their crops _and_ Claypool's communal crafting stations. Sure, there were communal stations back in Divinity's Reach, same with any major city, but ingredients purchased in the market there just didn't have quite the same appeal as those bought directly from the source.

Speaking of which, she had a few ideas for the honey she'd bought. _It really would make a great glaze for that roasted carrots idea I thought of,_ she mused, glancing down at the small jar and the thick, amber-hued liquid within. _And the roasted carrots would go great with a chicken..._

“No, no, that's way too slow! Try attacking me as I lower my guard.”

Natalia jumped a little at the unfamiliar voice and turned to see who had spoken. Her breath caught a little in her throat as she saw that it was a Seraph soldier talking to a group of what was surely fresh recruits, all holding training swords. “Remember to keep an eye on how I move,” the soldier lectured. “Learn to predict when I'm about to lower my shield and attack based on that. Everyone has a specific way of doing things on the battlefield, even brigands and centaurs. It's your job as Seraph to figure out what that method is and counter it.”

Natalia's hand unconsciously drifted upwards to the thin chain around her neck, mostly hidden by the teal-blue silk of her cravat. A memory she'd tried to keep locked away ripped free of its restraints and floated to the front of her mind.

_“Nat!”_

_The slam of the door and her sister's voice both caused nineteen-year-old Natalia to jump in shock, dropping her screwturner to the floor with a clatter. “Debs?” she called, getting to her feet and leaving her current project on the ground in a pile of blueprints and spare parts as she made her way into the main hall where her older sister waited, still decked out in her training gear and sporting a huge smile on her face. “What's got you so excited?” Natalia asked._

_Deborah Solane's brilliant green eyes shone beneath her dark brown bangs as she shoved something small and metal into Natalia's hands. “That!” she exclaimed. “Look!”_

_Natalia looked down. Resting in her palm was a small, elaborately designed winged badge. “This is... you got your Seraph's badge!” she exclaimed. “Does that mean you've completed your training?”_

_Deborah nodded, beaming. “'Course I have! All those swordsmanship lessons Mom had me take had to pay off sometime, right? Anyway, I'm getting my first assignment, tomorrow, too; Captain Thackeray says I'll be starting out by taking a patrol route in one of the city's districts, keeping an eye out for troublemakers and thieves and the like.” The corner of her mouth curled upwards into a cheeky smirk. “You think that Mom will finally get off my case about Seraph work being 'dangerous' if I tell her that the worst that I'll probably have to deal with for a while will be drunken louts in the commons?”_

_“She'll definitely sleep easier knowing you'll still be in the city,” Natalia replied, not taking her eyes off the badge “So will I It'll be strange when you get assigned someplace else and I won't be able to see you anymore, Debs.” The two of them had grown up nearly inseparable; Natalia wasn't sure she was ready to wake up in the morning and not hear her sister's boisterous shouting from across the manor._

_“Ah, don't worry about that, sis!” Deborah said, clapping Natalia on the shoulder. “Even if I get assigned to someplace out in Kessex, I'll still write to you as often as I can! Besides, it's not uncommon for new Seraph to start out being assigned to a patrol route in the city. So I'll probably be around for a while until Captain Thackeray thinks I'm ready for field duty. Which might be a while; he keeps criticizing my shield stance.” She frowned slightly. “So does the drill sergeant. And the seraph in Claypool.”_

_“Well, you are kind of rubbish with a shield.”_

_“It's not my fault, I was classically trained! You don't see Faren picking up a tower shield, do you?”_

_“I don't see Faren picking up much of anything. Women included, much as he boasts otherwise.”_

_“Ha! All right, fair play.” Deborah grabbed the Seraph badge. “Give that back now. I'm going to need it when I tell Mom. Speaking of, do you know when she's going to get back from that business meeting with the fellow from Saidra's Haven?”_

_Natalia shrugged. “I'm not sure. She was pretty vague on the details. I'm sure she'll be back before supper, though.”_

_“Ah, well then. I suppose I'll wait until she gets back, then.” Deborah began to make her way down the hall towards the stairs. “Works for me; I need to get out of all this–” she gestured to her training gear, “–and clean myself off anyways. I'll be back downstairs in a bit, and you can tell me all about that whosa-whatsit you're building.”_

_“I'm not building anything, I'm upgrading my A.E.D.”_

_“Right, that, sorry. Saw you had your monocle on and assumed you were building something.” Deborah started to head up the stairs._

_Natalia hesitated for a brief second. “Wait. Debs?”_

_Deborah turned around. “Mm?”_

_“I... I think that it's really great that you're becoming a Seraph,” Natalia said, clasping her hands behind her back. “I know that Mom's worried about you getting hurt, and I am, too, a little bit, but... I really think that you can do a lot of good as a Seraph. You could help a lot of people.”_

_“Yeah?” A proud smile stretched across Deborah's face. “You think so?”_

_Natalia nodded. “I_ know _so.”_

“Excuse me, Lady Solane?”

Natalia flinched, jolted from her reverie by the sound of her title. She turned around to see a courier standing there, a perplexed expression on his face and a missive in his hand. “Lady Solane is my mother,” she said. “I'm just Natalia, please.”

“Ah, forgive me.” The courier was still giving her a strange look.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh, yes, yes, it's just... are you all right, La– Miss Natalia? You look a little, ah...”

“Huh?” Natalia raised her hand to her face and was surprised and embarrassed to find that her cheeks were wet. “Oh!” She hastily rubbed the offending tears from her eyes. _Damn it, damn it, damn it._ “I'm so sorry about that, it's nothing, it's just... it's _nothing_ ,” she repeated firmly. “What did you need?”

“I'm here to deliver a letter from Lord Faren. He said you'd likely be here in Claypool, so I've been waiting for you to arrive.” The courier held the letter in question out to her. “Uh, here you go.”

Of course Faren knew she'd head to Claypool before anything else; the man knew her like she knew him. “Thank you,” Natalia said, taking the letter with a grateful nod of her head. “Do you need payment? I have a few silvers on hand...”

“No, that won't be necessary, His Lordship's already paid me. I should be going, though; I have other letters that need delivery.”

“Of course.” As the courier took his leave, Natalia turned her attention to the letter, prying open the seal and running her gaze across the showy, elegant handwriting within.

_Natalia,_

_Aha, I knew that you would head to Claypool as soon as you dragged your heroic behind out of that sickbed! A woman such as yourself wouldn't let something as minor as head trauma stand between you and your destination. Nevertheless, your presence is requested, nay, demanded back in Divinity's Reach. And if you haven't told that Priestess of Dwayna what a fine fellow I am yet, I will take it as a personal affront!_

_Until then, I remain your handsomest, most charming, and humble companion,_

_Lord Faren_

Humble, her foot. Natalia was intrigued by his insistence that she return to Divinity's Reach, however. That intrigue was quickly replaced by concern. Was it her mother? She loved her mother dearly, but she had no interest in going back to the city only to be lectured for helping the Seraph stop the centaur assault. _No, no_ , she told herself, _Mom would have sent me a letter herself, or just come straight out here to Claypool directly._

No, this was just one of Faren's hedonistic antics, she was sure of it. _Ten silver says he wants me to try and talk to some poor woman for him and butter her up_. Natalia had no interest in going back to the city to play wingwoman, either, but there was no reason for her to remain in Claypool. And Faren _was_ her closest friend. She supposed she could at least see what he wanted.

 _If this_ is _all about a woman, though, we're going to have problems._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene with the bandit and the moa chick was my favorite scene to write for this whole chapter.
> 
> Also HOW 'BOUT THAT CURRENT EVENTS CONTENT EH AHAHAHA ow.


	3. A Party Fit For a Hero

Divinity's Reach was always at its most beautiful at sunset.

The massive limestone walls and towering inner hub of the city contrasted starkly against the backdrop of dusky blues and pinks painted by the evening sky, with the sun barely peeking over the edge of the western wall. The streets, while not empty, were beginning to quieten as people returned to their homes or made their way to the nearest tavern, leaving behind empty cobble roads that turned a rich orange in the light of the rapidly-setting sun during the brief hour before they would be swallowed whole by the ever-elongating shadows cast by the city walls. Natalia was glad that Divinity's Reach was such a beautiful city, because it was quite the walk between the city gates and the Salma District where both her family and Faren's resided. By the time she made it to the northwestern sector of the city and slipped between the gates, the sun had already set, leaving only the clear indigo expanse of the night sky in its wake.

Natalia wasn't surprised to see Faren was waiting for her near the Solane estate, but she was surprised to see lights and hear voices floating out from her terrace. When Faren saw her approaching, he immediately sprung forward, a broad smile crossing his handsome features. “Ah, and here comes the Hero of Shaemoor herself. Enjoying the benefits of your new title, I hope!”

“Faren, what have you got planned back there?”

“Ah, I see nothing gets past you, as usual.” Faren rubbed the back of his neck. “I had _hoped_ for it to be a surprise. A sort of welcoming party, to celebrate your victory at the garrison.”

“A party?” Natalia repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Does Mother know?”

“No, your mother's off on a business venture. She's not expected to return until tomorrow.”

“I see. So, is this all really to celebrate our victory against the centaurs, or is it just an excuse for you and your friends to see what's in my family's wine cupboard?”

Faren waved her off, but the expression on his face failed to hide his guilt. “Oh, nonsense! Heroes are always popular. Although, that Elona 1250 _was_ quite eye-catching,” he admitted. “How _did_ your mother get her hands on that, by the way? Elonian wine is so expensive nowadays.”

“It was a gift from a business partner,” Natalia said. “She's been saving it for a special occasion.” She shot a pointed look in Faren's direction. “I do hope you didn't open it. Because friend or no friend, I'm not weathering _that_ storm for you.”

A brief look of fear flashed across Faren's face, and he hastily shook his head. “Never fear, your staff were most insistent that _that_ particular bottle stay corked. But they were eager to help facilitate the preparation of some very fine refreshments, regardless.” Faren sighed wistfully. “I wish my servants loved me half as much. But then, I am lovable in other ways...”

_Oh boy, here we go._ “And the less said about your philandering ways, the better,” Natalia said with a roll of her eyes. “Now, wipe that smirk off your face, and let's go enjoy my family's best roast duck and brandy.”

As she made her way around the estate and to the back terrace, she saw that the party was quite a bit bigger than she expected. Every one of Faren's friends was there, along with several of the local gossips and even a couple of her mother's friends. “You really did go all out, didn't you?” she said, looking around.

“Of course!” Faren exclaimed. “Your name's been on the lips of every lord and lady in the Salma District. Oh, speaking of which... Hello there, Baroness Jasmina, it's a pleasure to see you here!”

Natalia watched with a small sigh as Faren ran off to acquaint himself with the latest noblewoman to have caught his interest. Left to her own devices, she began to wander the length of the terrace, waving politely to those who greeted her. The smell of roasted poultry and various pastries caused her stumble to growl hungrily, and it was then that she realized that she hadn't eaten anything since she'd woken up that morning. She quickly made her way over to the waiting banquet and was just about to take a bit out of a small cherry tart when a gratingly familiar voice floated up from behind her. “You've done well for yourself.”

Startled, Natalia turned to see Minister Julius Zamon standing there with a look on his face like he'd discovered something foul on the underside of his boot. She was surprised to see him; usually the nobility and members of the ministry kept a polite distance from each others' affairs, and Minister Zamon in particular had always been one of her mother's more prominent political rivals. “I suppose that's one way of looking at it,” she replied flatly. “I wasn't really thinking about my own benefit when I went to the garrison that night.” _A concept unfamiliar to you, no doubt._ She took a bite out of the tart. “Surprised to see you here. Didn't think I'd ever see you attending a party at the Solane estate, given how you and my mother get along.”

Zamon scoffed. “I assure you, attending the party wasn't my idea. Madeline was interested in all the gossip surrounding you and insisted on dragging me along to see what all the fuss was abou.” He was referring to Lady Madeline, his sister and the caretaker of their ailing mother. “I, personally don't see the point in such extravagance over a noble girl trying to play soldier.”

Natalia wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. On the one hand, she agreed that Faren had perhaps overdone it with the festivities; she was coming home from an eventful trip into Queensdale, not bringing back the head of an Elder Dragon. On the other hand, Zamon's tone rubbed her the wrong way, and she'd never liked how he looked down his nose at her and her family.

Before she could settle on an appropriate response, however, their conversation was interrupted by a slightly tipsy Baron Rupert Edmonds and Baron Marius Corone. “Ah, Zamon, don't be that way,” Baron Corone declared. “This brave woman here faced down the centaur hordes alongside Captain Thackeray himself! I envy you, Natalia; it's not every day one gets to fight alongside the queen's finest, after all.”

Natalia hadn't realized it was possible for Zamon to look more disdainful, but he somehow managed. “Hrmph. If that lovesick buffoon and his Seraph are the queen's finest, then Kryta is doomed. Though, perhaps we already were; after all, it seems that all that is needed for a noble child to become a hero these days is a bit of gunplay, a few bottles of cheap brandy, and an inflated sense of self-importance. I do admit, I wonder if your sister had something similar running through her head when she decided to join the Seraph.”

Natalia was willing to put up with quite a bit for the sake of not having to deal with the resulting mess; she was painfully aware of how her actions reflected on her mother, and their family as a whole. But that? _That_ was a step too far. "You insufferable bastard," she growled. "If that's the case, then you must be a third of the way to being a hero yourself, because it takes a truly _special_ level of arrogance to disrespect Deborah's memory to my face like that." She slammed the plate down on the table, causing a nearby servant to let out a knowing wince. "Now, do you want to figure out the gunplay and brandy parts on your own time, or do you need me to give you a _personal_ lesson in the former?" Threatening a well-connected minister so brazenly was a bad idea – her mother would have her ear for using language in such a dull-edged fashion – but she had long since passed the threshold of caring.

Zamon fumed. “You insolent–” He stopped himself, glancing around the terrace before seemingly deciding that further conflict would cause unnecessary scandal and storming off, calling for his sister as he left. Natalia watched him go with a fierce glower. _Bastard._

“Well!” Baron Corone declared. “You truly are your mother's daughter at times, aren't you?”

“Only when the situation calls for it,” Natalia said. “And that man is a situation that calls for immediate removal, by any means necessary.”

“What would you have done had he called your bluff?”

Natalia turned a dangerous look towards him. “Who said it was a bluff?

“Ah. I see.” Baron Corone looked a little flummoxed at that. “I must say, I certainly understand your anger. Saying that about your sister, so soon after... Well, it was indecorous, that's for sure. He is only fortunate that Lady Solane was not here to hear him say that.”

“Oh, I'm sure she'll hear about it eventually,” Natalia said, casting an aside glance at Baroness Yolanda, who was standing nearby and trying very hard to pretend that she hadn't been listening in on every word.

Baron Edmonds spoke up. “Well, we shan't worry about that for the time being. This _is_ a celebration, after all. Speaking of, will you tell us more about the centaur attack? We've all heard what happened, but it would be thrilling to hear the account from someone who was actually there during all of it!”

“I guess 'thrilling' is one word for it,” Natalia said as memories of the night began to surface. “It _was_ a little exciting, being able to test my arsenal against a sage's full might. I don't often get the chance to go up against magic-users. Mostly it's just brigands in the fields and spiders in the woods, which only gets me so far in terms of measuring my own effectiveness.”

“Better to blow up brigands than to test your wild contraptions in Salma District, I say!” Corone said, referring to the many times that Natalia had accidentally blown up half her bedroom while tinkering with her explosives. “So, the fight...?

“Well, I learned that an elemental's core is a very volatile thing, and to not throw a grenade right into the middle of it,” Natalia said, rolling her shoulder and wincing at the resulting twinge of pain. “However, the fact that I can use traditional weaponry against magical constructs at all is a good sign. _And_ ,” she added, “because the elemental was so big, I was able to get a clearer look at how it keeps itself together and identify potential weak points that I can exploit if I find myself fighting common earth elementals. Won't help with other types of elementals, but I can always...” She trailed off as she noticed that both barons were giving her exasperated looks. “What?”

“Listen to yourself!” Edmond exclaimed. “You fight off an army of centaurs and get celebrated as a hero for it, and the first thing you brag about is that you learned how earth elementals are built! Forget all of that for now; let's hear about the exciting details!” His laurel-green eyes shone with anticipation. “I heard from Faren that you fought at Captain Thackeray's side that night. Is that true?”

“Y-yes, he was the one commanding the defense of the garrison.” It was natural that he would be more interested in one of the legendary members of the now-disbanded guild Destiny's Edge, but Natalia had been genuinely excited in talking about the structural makeup of the elemental she had fought. “We fought off the centaurs and elementals together.” She remembered how concerned he'd looked at first over the idea of her, a civilian, being in the thick of the fight. She hoped she'd managed to prove herself to him.

“Well, here's a toast to him and to you, then!” Edmond said. He raised his glass of wine in the air, and Corone quickly followed suit. “It's not every day you stand as an equal to one of Kryta's greatest. I hope that one day I, too, can fight alongside you.”

Natalia had no glass to raise, so she simply offered a smile in return. “Should that time come, I would be honored to stand by you.” A flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned to see a man clad in various shades of cream and brown and sporting a thin mustache gestured towards her. Confused, she pointed to herself and mouthed, “ _Me?_ ” The man nodded impatiently. “Looks like I'm needed elsewhere. It was a pleasure seeing the two of you,” she said, dipping into a brief bow.

“Of course,” Corone and Edmonds returned the bow. “You enjoy the party now.”

As Natalia approached the small crowd, the man that had beckoned her over – whom she'd deduced to be an entertainer of some sort – cleared his voice and declared, “Ah, the guest of honor finally approaches! Ladies and gentleman,” the man said to the small crowd that had gathered, “I, Wozmack the Wonderful, give to you the Hero of Shaemoor! Lord Faren instructed that I hold my stupendous feats of wonder until you arrived. So, hero, are you ready to be _amazed?_ ” He waved his hands, causing pink sparks to appear in front of him and dazzle the party-goers.

_A street mesmer, then._ It was common for mesmers to become performers-for-hire, wowing audiences across Kryta with their illusions. “By all means, start the show,” Natalia said.

“Excellent!” Wozmack clapped his hands together, creating another flurry of sparks. He raised his voice so that everyone in the terrace could hear him. “Gather round, gather round, everyone! But not too close; my tricks are daring and dangerous. And now, prepare to be stunned right out of your shoes as I summon fire, right from my hands!”

Natalia instinctively took a step back just before Wozmack conjured his trick. With a flourish, he summoned forth a torrent of flame that burst out far enough to cause the other guests to shriek and pull away. Oddly enough, Natalia could feel the heat of the flame against her skin. Illusionary fires didn't put off real heat like this, which meant that either Wozmack had dabbled in elementalism before becoming a street mesmer, or he was using some sort of sleight-of-hand device to create the flame. She'd have to ask him which one it was afterwards. Not that he'd tell her; performers never revealed their secrets.

The flames died down, and Wozmack looked disconcertingly sheepish amid the eager applause from the onlookers. “Whoa! Sorry, ladies and gents. That one got away from me. Still, as far as tricks go, that one was “well done,” don't you think?” No one in the audience so much as chuckled at the pun, and Wozmack hastily cleared his throat. “A-hem, ah, for this next trick, I shall dazzle your very eyes!” With a dramatic flourish, he waved his hand... and turned a bright pink in hue, from his hair to his boots. “Behold, magenta...ish.” This time he didn't even get a polite clap. “Come on, people, I'm working here. Okay, okay.” He shook the illusion off and continued. “Now, prepare to witness a feat no other magician has ever performed... and _lived!_ ”

The gathered crowd _ooh'd_ and _aah'd_ appropriately. Natalia cleared her throat. “Can we keep the fatalities to a minimum, please?” she joked. “My mother would have my hide if she came home and found your body on the terrace.”

Wozmack puffed his chest out proudly. “Never fear, hero, for I am not like the other magicians! Watch carefully, now, for I can only do this once!” The surrounding nobles, enthralled by his act, all leaned in with anticipatory glee lighting up their faces. Spurred on by the attention, Wozmack continued. “Behold.... Ala-ka-zam!”

Nothing happened.

The color drained from Wozmack's face. “Uh... Aka-ka-zoom?” Still nothing. “Aheh, no, that's not right. Ala-ka-zap? It's definitely ala-ka- _zomething._ Ala-ka-boom?”

The resulting explosion was enough to knock several of the closest nobles, Natalia included, to the ground, drawing screams from both Wozmack's audience and the other party-goers. When Natalia pulled herself into a sitting position and observed the scene, she found that Wozmack had completely vanished in the explosion, leaving behind only a scorch march on the terrace and a fire in the flower bed. “Oh, no,” one of the nearby staff, a mousy-haired boy by the name of Alberich, said. “Delroy isn't going to be pleased about that one.” Delroy was the gardener.

“It's fine,” Natalia said, pulling herself to her feet. “I've got an extinguisher up in my room.” Her mother had purchased it for her for her seventeenth Wintersday, as a not-so-subtle statement on Natalia's tendency to accidentally blow up her workspace. “I'll go fetch it.”

She ran inside and hastened up the winding stairs to the second story and down the hall to her bedroom. Her extinguisher – or the “Compact Conflagration Extinguishing Agent Emitter,” as the etching on the side helpfully declared because the asura were as succinct as they were humble – sat dutifully against the leg of her work desk, which itself bore the blackened scars of previous failed experiments.

No sooner had she grabbed the device, however, than a horrified scream filled the air from the terrace below. Heart pounding against her chest, Natalia bolted back down the hall with extinguisher in hand, almost tripping over herself in her rush to get down the stairs. As she reached the door, she heard Faren cry out, “Take your hands off me, you scum! Help! Murder! Mayhem!”

“Faren!” Natalia shouted, bursting onto the terrace. A bullet flew by her head, missing the back of her skull by inches, and she turned to see a masked brigand standing there with a pistol trained on her. _Shit!_ She acted on instinct, bringing the extinguisher around and pulling the trigger. A frosty cone of extinguishing agent shot forth from the device and hit the brigand dead-on. He dropped his gun and fell to the ground, limbs stiff from the icy blast.

To her right and left, Barons Edmonds and Corone were engaged in fights of their own. “Natalia!” Baron Edmonds shouted as he cut down the bandit he had been locked in combat with. “I'm glad to see you're well. They've taken Faren and some of the others... wait, look out!”

Natalia whirled around to see a bandit charging towards her, daggers drawn. Without hesitation she reacted, striking out with the butt of her extinguisher just as the bandit attacked and knocking one of the daggers out of her hand. The bandit stumbled back, clutching her wrist, and Natalia struck again, this time sending the bandit sprawling to the ground. “Where did you take the others?” she demanded, pointing the extinguisher at her impromptu prisoner. “Where did they go?!”

“G-Grenth take you,” the bandit spat.

Natalia responded by shoving the nozzle of the extuingisher up against the bandit's throat. “You know, the instruction manual was pretty explicit about what this particular flavor of extinguishing agent does to bare skin, and it's not pretty. So I suggest you _rethink your attitude_ and _tell me where my damn friends are!_ ”

“Shit, okay, okay!” the bandit yelped. “Listen, your fancy-pants friend is in a safehouse near the district square. They're gonna keep 'im there until they can get 'im to our base out in Queensdale. Since he's so high-profile, y'know? Didn't wanna draw too much attention all at once.”

“Fancy-pants... Faren?” Faren was a competent enough swordsman, to be sure, but he hadn't had his sword with him during the party. Natalia turned to the barons. “Corone, Edmons? Could you see to the staff and guests and make sure that everything is secure here? I'm needed elsewhere.”

Baron Corone nodded. “One of your staff has already gone to get the Seraph. You go after Faren; we'll keeps things under control here.”

Natalia briefly returned the nod before heading out towards the district square. Her mind raced with questions. Even if she hadn't gone out into Queensdale and seen the profusion of bandit attacks first-hand, it was no secret that the number of street muggings and burglaries was increasing at an alarming rate. What's more, they weren't just isolated incidents; they seemed to almost be coordinated, like all the bandits in western Kryta decided to band together to cause trouble. But _why_? Was there an ambitious new ringleader, rallying them under their flag? Were they searching for something in particular? What was the _angle_ behind all of this?

The safehouse the bandit had mentioned was easy enough to find, and the bandits inside were equally easy to deal with. As the last of them fell to the ground, a familiar, distressed voice floated down from the upper floor. “Hello? Is that the Seraph?”

“Faren!” Natalia exclaimed. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

“Ah, Natalia! Yes, I'm quite all right. Shaken and kicked a bit, but nothing severe. Though these ropes are chafing something fierce. I don't suppose you could come untie me, could you?”

Natalia grabbed a dagger that had been dropped by one of the fallen bandits and ran up the stairs. The sight of Faren sitting there, hair mussed and hands bound but otherwise unharmed, was a blessed relief. Judging by the look in his eyes as she reached the upper floor, the feeling was mutual. “Am I glad to see you!” Faren said. “Although, if this was all a plot to get me to leave the party, a simple 'begone!' would have sufficed.”

“Cute,” Natalia said, the corner of her mouth curling upwards. She knelt down beside him and began cutting away at the rope that tethered his hands behind his back. “If I really wanted you to leave, Faren, I'd just threaten you with my mother. Speaking of whom, I'll doubt she'll be happy when she hears that there was a bandit attack. I don't suppose your dear hosts were polite enough to tell you exactly why they had kidnapped you?”

With his hands newly freed from their restraints, Faren rolled his shoulders and shook his head. “If only. I _did_ overhear them talking about a farmhouse in Shaemoor, however. Something about it being a back entrance to their base of operations? They were planning on taking me there with the rest of the hostages once it got quiet enough. I don't think they were counting on the Hero of Shaemoor coming to my rescue, though!”

“Then that's where I'll go,” Natalia said as she stood up. “Those hostages are my family's staff. Some of them might as well _be_ family. I won't stand by and let them be dragged off for ransom or slavery o-or who even knows what! Faren, I need you to–”

“Oh, no you don't.” Faren got to his feet. “I may not be a centaur-killing scrapper like you, but I can take care of myself. I'm coming with you.”  
“Faren, someone needs to tell the Seraph about this. A bandit hideout as near as Shaemoor? Someone needs to tell them.”

Faren waved her concerns off. “I'll let someone know when I go to fetch my sword. Besides, it would be bad form for me to turn tail and run back home while you do all the work.”

Natalia sensed that there was no talking her friend out of this – he was nothing if not perserverant, after all. And honestly, an extra sword by her sword couldn't hurt. “All right. I'll meet you there in a few hours.”

* * *

It took a while to figure out which farm that she was supposed to be looking for, but eventually Natalia found it: an abandoned farmhouse in the southern stretch of the Shaemoor fields, just to the west of the pumping station. As she approached, she saw a silhouetted figure standing outside the door, and was about to draw her rifle when she saw the figure's straight-backed stance and the sword and their hip, with its thin, straight blade that marked it as a noble's rapier. “Faren!” she hissed.

Faren jumped and whirled around. “Natalia!” he exclaimed. “And here I was beginning to think that you'd gotten lost along the way.”

“I almost did,” Natalia admitted.

“I see. Well, never mind that. It's time to make these louts pay for ruining your party.” Faren tapped the sweeping hilt of his rapier. “I've got my sword, my sensible shoes, and my fighting coiffure. What else do I need?”

Natalia bit back a grin. “You're as ready as you'll ever be,” she teased lightheartedly. “That being said, please do me a favor and stay close, okay? I don't want to accidentally shoot you in the middle of a fight.”

“Don't worry about me, old friend,” Faren said. “Remember, Swordmaster Bongo told my parents I was the best student he'd ever trained.”

“Was this before or after you took out his eye?”

“Ahem, well...” Faren hastily cleared his throat. “No time to reminisce. We've got people to rescue and bandits to defeat!” He all but ran inside the farm, leaving a startled and swearing Natalia following in his footsteps.

The farm inside was surprisingly empty; Natalia had been expecting at least a couple of bandits standing guard on the ground floor, but there was nothing but dust and empty crates. The entrance that Faren had heard about from his captors quickly revealed itself to be an large opening in the basement wall that led into some sort of underground tunnel. Were it not for its unusual placement, Natalia would have pegged it for a mining tunnel. But one didn't generally find mining tunnels in farmhouse basements. “Did the bandits dig this?” she mused as they made their way through the cave. “I have trouble believing they could find the tools or the time to do so without drawing attention or without triggering at least one collapse. Maybe this was here before, the farm was built on top of it, and the bandits managed to discover the tunnel at some point?”

“Ah, there you go again,” Faren said. “In all the years we've known each other, I don't think you've gone a single day without stumbling across a question you didn't immediately latch onto.”

“I'm an _engineer_ , Faren. A gadgeteer, a tinkerer. Questions – and their solutions – are kind of my bread and butter,” Natalia pointed out. “Now keep quiet, I think I hear voices.”

The two of the pressed up against the cave wall as a voice floated towards them. “Are you sure it's safe here? We left a lot of wounded behind. They could talk.”

Another voice answered. “Oh, they'll keep quiet. Everyone knows what Kelly does to snitches.

“Yeah? Well, what if they try and cut a deal or something? Like, the Seraph promise to keep 'em safe if they talk?”

The second voice scoffed. “What, the same Seraph who needed a prissy little noble brat to help them with a handful of centaurs? Please. They couldn't protect the queen from bedbugs, much less protect one of our own from Kelly.”

Comfortably concealed by the darkness of their chosen hiding spot, Natalia and Faren went unnoticed as the bandits talked. Natalia shot Faren a wry look before reaching into her toolpouch and pulling out one of her grenades. Faren grabbed her arm. “Not that I'm not excited to remind these scoundrels not to kidnap their betters,” he said in so low of a whisper as to be barely audible, “but I do remember what happened the last time you tried to test one of those in Salma, so perhaps we should choose a course of action that doesn't bring the entire tunnel down on us.”

“Relax,” Natalia replied just as quietly. “This isn't that sort of grenade.”

“Then what is it?”

Natalia would have winked at him if one of her eyes wasn't hidden by the tinted glass of her eyepiece. As it stood, she settled for a knowing grin. “You'll see. Just... close your eyes and cover your ears, okay?”

Faren looked confused, but did as she asked, and Natalia pulled the pin of the grenade and lobbed it down the tunnel before turning away and covering her own ears. The resulting noise caused the bandits to stop talking for a moment, looking around for the source. “Did you hear–?”

The grenade exploded in a flash of light and a deafening bang that faded into a painful ringing sound deep within Natalia's inner ear. She quickly tapped the A.E.D. device on her belt, activating the small, circular device and letting some of the stored-up magic heal any damage the flashbang might have done to her ears before detaching it from her belt, shoving it against Faren's chest, and healing him with it. Still a little dazed, he blinked in confusion before realizing what she was doing and nodding his thanks.

Meanwhile, the bandits were too disoriented by the flashbang to do anything but stagger around blindly, drawing their weapons and flailing around in circles. Faren proceeded to charge forward into the fray, drawing his own rapier and parrying the first bandit's clumsy strike with ease before cutting her down, turning to the second bandit, and cutting him down as well. Whatever there was to be said about Faren's vanity and womanizing habits – and there was a _lot_ to be said about both – one couldn't deny that his swordsman training had paid off. “Are you all right?” Natalia asked, noting a slight unsteadiness in his stance.

“Quite all right, my good friend.” He rubbed at his ear and winced. “Though I _do_ wish you had given me a bit more warning just what it was you were about to do. My ears are still ringing. What _was_ that?”

“Flashbang. Sorry about that; normally I try not to use those in enclosed spaces like this, but...” Natalia shrugged a shoulder halfheartedly. “Don't worry; I don't think you'll suffer any permanent damage.”

“Well, that's good to know.” Faren gestured down the tunnel. “Shall we?”

Natalia nodded. “We should be careful heading further in,” she said. “I didn't bring any more of those, and I don't think we'd be able to pull the same trick twice, anyway. I won't be able to use any of my other grenades, either, not when we're underground like this.” She stared into the torch-lit depths that waited ahead. “We're going to be at a bit of a disadvantage down here.”

Not that she had any intentions of letting that stop her. She was going to rescue the bandit's hostages, one way or another.

* * *

Natalia generally didn't make a habit out of staring down the barrel of the same gun twice in one day, but she supposed that there was a first time for everything. “Moa poaching didn't pan out, I take it?”

“ _You–_ ” the bandit hissed, waving his gun at her, “shut _up_. I had to deal with enough shit from the boss for that little trick you pulled earlier today.”

Natalia had been surprised to see the same bandit from earlier that afternoon in these caves, but as she mapped out Queensdale in her head, she realized that it actually made sense. They weren't that far from the moa ranch, and if they'd gone south from the house, then they surely must have simply found a different route through the same tunnels. “You don't have to do this, you know,” she said, taking a step back as the bandit took a step forward. “Look where all of this has gotten you. You really think there won't be consequences if you shoot me?”

“Consequences? Like havin' to deal with your Seraph friends?” the bandit scoffed. “It'll be worth it to have you off my tail. I don't care if you're Thackeray's personal boot-shiner, you ain't getting out of these caves alive a second time.”

He took another step forward, and Natalia moved to take another step back only to be stopped by the edge of the outcrop they were standing on. Any further back and she'd end up falling to a watery death. She looked to Faren for help, but he was occupied with what seemed to be the leader of the bandits. Her rifle was still laying several feet away from her, having been knocked out of her hands during the initial scuffle between her and the brigand who now had his pistol trained on her, and trying to use her explosives was too risky in her current position on the outcrop. “So how'd you go from moa poaching to kidnapping people from Salma district? Bit of a leap, isn't it?” she asked, hoping to buy herself a few seconds to think up a way out of this predicament.

To her surprise, the bandit took the bait. “Yeah, that's what I thought. But, we're getting paid good money to cause trouble for you nobles, so who's complaining?”

That caught Natalia's interest. “You're being _paid?_ Someone put you up to this?”

The leader, still caught in his struggle against Faren, shouted, “Niel, you idiot, shut your stupid mouth and shoot her already!”

The bandit flinched. “Sorry, boss!” he shouted, and turned his gun back on her. In the split second before he pulled the trigger, Natalia noticed something on his pistol that hadn't been there before: namely, a fine crack that ran across the length of the already poorly-shaped barrel, splitting the wood across the grain.

_Well now._

That changed the odds a bit.

Natalia jumped to the side just as the bandit fired. The bullet tore through the leather of her shoulderguards and ripped a shallow line across her shoulder, but it was nothing compared to what happened to the bandit when his own gun exploded in his hand, causing him to stumble back and scream and anguish. Natalia grabbed her own gun from the ground, whirled around, and fired at his feet, driving him back and over the edge of the outcrop. The hard splash as he hit the water below caused her stomach to churn, but she shoved those thoughts to the side to focus on Faren and the bandit leader, the latter of whom was now furious. “That _stupid–_ ” he spat, before stepped away from his swordfight long enough to draw his own, unfortunately much more well-maintained pistol from his belt. “I'll deal with you–”

“Oh, no, you don't!” Faren shouted, knocking the pistol out from the leader's hand with a well-aimed sword strike. “Natalia!”

Natalia lunged forward, dropping down to slide underneath the leader's outstretched arm and lash out at his legs with a rocket-assisted kick. The force of the blow was enough to send him to his knees, and from her position on the ground she aimed a final shot at his back that brought him down for good. “Faren!” she exclaimed, rubbing at her shoulder were the bullet had grazed her. “Are you all right?”

“Nothing but a crumpled cravat,” Faren said. “These brigands didn't have the good fortune I did of having one of the best teachers in Tyria, it seems.” He tilted his head. “So what's all this about 'moa poaching?'”

“It's.. a long story. I'll explain later.” Natalia made her way to the cages where the hostages were being kept. “Are any of you hurt?” she asked, fumbling with the rudimentary lock on the nearest cage.

One of the hostages, a young woman with dust-blonde pigtails whom Natalia recognized as Baroness Jasmina's lady-in-waiting, spoke up. “N-no, we're all fine, I think. Thank the Six that you two arrived when you did, though!”

Faren, as he was wont to do when receiving the slightest bit of praise from a pretty girl, immediately stood up straighter and beamed proudly. “Of course we did! You didn't think that I would let these upstart ruffians hurt a woman as stunning as yourself, did you?”

“Faren!” Natalia snapped.

“What?”

“Cages _now_ , flirting _later._ ”

“A-ah, of course!”

With Faren's help, Natalia was able to get all of the cages open, and as soon as she cracked the last lock, an older man stumbled out of the cage and into view. She recognized him; he was in charge of the Solane estate's buttery, and had been the one opening the wine for the party. “Hubert!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in relief.

“Lady Solane,” Hubert replied with a sigh of relief. “I'm so grateful to see you here. You mother won't be happy to hear that her estate was the target of a bandit attack.”

“That she won't,” Natalia agreed, shuddering a bit at the idea of her mother's icy wrath towards whoever was responsible for the attack. She then remembered what the bandit had said and pulled away. “Hubert, that bandit said that they were being paid to conduct the attacks in Divinity's Reach. Did they ever mention who was orchestrating all this?”

“Not exactly,” Hubert said, “but I did manage to lift these from the bandit leader while he was dragging me into that cage.” His eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as he produced a small sheaf of crumpled papers from his pocket. “Don't tell your mother, but I was quite the pickpocket as a young lad.”

“Somehow I don't think she'd mind,” Natalia replied, taking the papers. “Not if it means finding out who's responsible for this.” The handwriting was unfamiliar, but the paper and ink were both of high quality, far too much so for this to have been just anyone with a grudge. “Whoever is behind these attacks must be very wealthy,” she muttered. “This one here looks like the most recent correspondence.” Her eyes widened as she read the letter's contents. “Faren, come look at this.”

Faren moved to peer over her shoulder. “What is it?”

“They were supposed to attack the estate a week from now, when Mother's scheduled to take a trip to Lion's Arch. They were only supposed to steal a few things. But the plans were changed. Pretty recently, too; this ink looks fresh. This letter was written today, I'm certain of it.”

“I see. But what could cause them to change their plans so suddenly?”

The realization hit Natalia like a sack of bricks. “Faren, when did you start arranging the party?”

“This morning, why?”

“That's it!” Natalia exclaimed. “The party! This was never about getting rich off of stolen goods, Faren. Publicly attacking a party celebrating someone who just helped the Seraph drive off a centaur attack? Someone's trying to make a _point_ , make a statement against the Seraph...”

“...And against the _queen_ ,” Faren finished, aghast. “The Ministry _has_ been getting more vocal about their disapproval regarding the queen's treaty with the charr. You don't think one of them could be responsible?”

“It's a possibility,” Natalia said grimly. “Come on. We need to get these people to safety. After that, I'm taking these letters to Captain Thackeray. If someone's making a move against the queen, he'll want to see this as soon as possible.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than it had any right to. Next chapter already has a significant amount written and I'm super excited for the stuff that happens in it, so it shouldn't take nearly as long to get out.
> 
> (Hint: we're gonna meet a character I love writing about next chapter. ;3)


	4. Dangerous Words

 

It turned out that Natalia didn't need to seek out Logan at all, as he was already waiting for her alongside several Seraph soldiers back at the tunnel's entrance. "Solane," he said with a warm smile. "It's good to see you up and about again. From what I hear, you didn't waste any time getting back in the action."

“Good to see you, too, Captain Thackeray,” Natalia replied with an equally warm smile of her own. “I take it word got to you about what happened back at the party?”

Logan nodded. “One of your servants managed to alert nearby Seraph to the attack. When we arrived at the Solane estate, we found Barons Edmonds and Corone, who told us that you'd rescued Faren from some of the kidnappers and that the two of you had gone to save the rest of the hostages.” He glanced towards Hubert and the others, who were being looked over by a Seraph medic. “I'm glad to see that no one was seriously hurt.”

Faren puffed out his chest. “Of course!” he declared. “We defeated those delinquents with panache _and_ aplomb! And you, my good sir, have arrived just in time to celebrate our victory!”

Logan shot Natalia an amused glance, and she responded with an apologetic shrug before swiftly elbowing Faren in the ribs. “We haven't beaten them quite yet,” she reminded him, waving the letters in her hand for emphasis. “These were retrieved from the bandits by my friend over there. They were sent by someone in Divinity's Reach. Someone in the upper classes has been arranging these attacks. I'm not sure who it might be, though; I don't recognize the handwriting.”

Logan's brow furrowed slightly as he took the letters, looking over their contents with careful scrutiny. “Well, you're right in that no common thug would use parchment this expensive,” he remarked.

“These attacks are getting more overt, and the attack on my family's estate wasn't done with avaricious intent,” Natalia pointed out. “Do you know who in the nobility or Ministry might want to make a statement against Divinity's Reach like this?”

“I was hoping that one of you two could tell me that,” Logan said. “You're closer to the noble gossip than I am.”

Faren shook his head. “I'm afraid not. Several among the nobility have expressed their discontent with how the queen is handling matters with the charr, but I don't know of any who would stoop to conspiring with brigands!” He sighed. “If only we have some way of tracking down where the letter came from...”

One of the Seraph chose that moment to speak up. “What about the papermaker, sir?”

"Fursarai?" Logan mused. "That is a possibility..."

Natalia blinked. “Who?”

"There's a papermaker at the trading post named Cin Fursarai," Logan explained. "He's a prickly man, but he does a lot of work in Divinity's Reach, and if there's anyone who could identify the design on that parchment, it's him."

"Then Faren and I will head out to the trading post," Natalia said, taking the letter back. "If it's just us, it'll keep whoever is responsible for all this from knowing that the Seraph has picked up their trail. That ought to buy us a bit more time to figure all this out."

Faren cleared his throat and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Erm, I'm afraid that you'll have to take this particular journey on your own, my friend," he said. "I would be of little help."

Natalia glanced over at him. “You're not coming with?”

“Well, you see, I, er... I may have threatened Fursarai in the past.”

“Wh– _Faren!_ ”

Logan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well, now,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning upwards. “I _have_ to hear this one.”

Faren coughed awkwardly. “Ah, see, the thing is, I was using paper that I had purchased from him to send an anonymous letter of courtship to a lovely young lady. Somehow, however, it ended up in the hands of her fiancé. He questioned Fursarai about it, who ratted me out.”

Natalia remembered the fallout from that incident, even if she hadn't known the backstory behind it; half of Salma District had heard the young baron's creative threats towards Faren. It had taken a timely intervention from Deborah, who had been stationed in Divinity's Reach at the time, to stop the baron from making good on several of them. "So you thought that threatening _him_ was a good idea,” she said, shooting him an incredulous look.

“Well, I was very put out about it all at the time! You remember what that man was saying he would do to me! Admittedly, yes, perhaps telling Fursarai I'd have him tied up and thrown to bears was a _bit_ overboard, but it was all bluster. But he seemed to take it quite seriously, so I'm going to have to sit this one out.

Natalia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Faren... just... _Faren_ ,” she sighed. “You are... you are _uniquely_ gifted at thinking the absolute worst thing to say at any given time." She looked over at Logan. "There's a second entrance to these caves west of here, near the moa ranch. I imagine the surviving bandits will be trying to catch them on their way out, see if they have any information they'd be willing to part with. In the meantime, I'm going to go talk to Fursarai. I'll meet you back in the city.

Logan nodded. “Be careful out there; it's quite the trek to the trading post, and we've heard reports of centaur activity in the area. Not that _you_ have much to worry about from centaurs, but...”

“I'll be fine,” Natalia said. She turned to Hubert. “Hubert, I know I'm asking a lot from you, but I need you to promise me that you won't tell my mother that I'm working with the Seraph again. You and I both know how she'll react when she finds out, and I want to put that off as long as possible.”

“Of course,” Hubert replied. “You have my word.”

“Thank you. That goes for you, too, Faren,” Natalia added with a pointed glance towards her friend. “I don't care what she says to you or tries to threaten you with, you can't tell her anything. Make something up, tell her I went to Claypool, anything, just don't tell her about all this.”

“Don't you worry, my friend!” Faren said. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good. I'll see you back in the city.” Without waiting for a farewell, Natalia turned and left, making her way east towards the trading post.

* * *

Logan hadn't been kidding when he'd referred to Cin Fursarai as “prickly.” When Natalia arrived at the trading post, the morning sun peeking through the hills ahead of her, she found him red-faced and yelling at a Norn mercenary that towered over him, clad in steel and furs. “We had a deal, you thick-headed sap!” Fursarai shouted.

“You said centaurs,” the mercenary replied gruffly. “You didn't mention we'd be dealing with catapults. Double the pay or we're leaving. “As if to hammer the point home, the other mercenaries that had been loitering about behind him suddenly stepped forward, glaring daggers at Fursarai.

Fursarai wasn't cowed. “Double?!” he exclaimed. “How do you expect me to turn a profit when you charge me so much? Forget it!”

“Can't turn a profit if you're stuck here,” the Norn mercenary said. “It's your hide, though.” He lumbered away, the other mercenaries trailing behind him and sneering at Fursarai as they passed him by.

Natalia waited for them to leave before approaching the still-fuming Fursarai. “It sounds like you're in a bit of a bind,” she remarked, leaning against a nearby support beam. “Perhaps I could be of assistance... for a price.”

Cin whirled around, scowling as he ran a critical gaze over her traveling finery. “Not _too_ high a price, I hope. You certainly don't look like you need the coin.”

“Then it's a good thing that coin's not what I'm looking for.” Natalia pulled the letters out of her coat pocket and waved it in his direction. “I'm here on behalf of the Seraph, as well as my family. I need to find out who wrote these letters, and I have it on good authority that you can help me identify this paper and who purchased it.”

Fursarai pursed his lips. "Hm. Well, if you find quality paper, I can assure you that I was the one who made it. Reams of paper are like snowflakes; I know my pages like most people know their own children." He narrowed his eyes and looked at her skeptically. "But why should I help? I'm a resident of Lion's Arch. Your queen's got no authority over me, and my clients expect discretion."

Natalia raised an eyebrow. _Ah, yes, and you were so discreet about your business with Faren, weren't you?_ She didn't say that out loud, however; she wanted him to be as open with her as possible, and he probably wouldn't be as cooperative if he knew that her closest friend was the same man who'd threatened him with death by bear. So instead, she said, “You should help me because I can get you to the garrison safely. I have experience with fighting centaurs, and I can dismantle those catapults your previous guards abandoned you over. All you have to do in return...” she brandished the letters at him, “...is tell me who bought me this paper once we get to the garrison.”

Fursarai hesitated a few moments for relenting. “Fine. If you protect me and my pack bull until we get to the garrison, I'll tell you what you want to know. But we'd better make this quick; I haven't got all day, you know, and I need to be in Divinity's Reach as soon as possible.”

“Fine by me. Just stay behind me and let me lead the way.”

* * *

Faren was more than happy to be back in the city. Not that he didn't enjoy giving those lawless rapscallions what for and saving those servants, but fighting bandits was such _ugly_ work. He wasn't sure how Natalia could stomach it, honestly. _Then again_ , he thought, remembering the gratitude in that pretty lady-in-waiting's eyes as he'd helped her out of the cage those ruffians had kept her in, _heroism does have its perks._

Speaking of beautiful women, he was wondering how Baroness Jasmina was doing. She'd left the party just before the bandits attacked, having been upset by Wozmack's, ahem, _explosive_ performance, so he knew she was safe and unharmed. Still, perhaps he'd better stop by her estate just to be sure. It'd be uncouth of him not to take concern in a lady's well-being, after all.

As he made his way towards the Salma district, his mind once more wandered to his latest adventure with Natalia, and just what they'd discovered. There was a treasonous plot to undermine the queen's authority and shake the people's faith in the Seraph, and the mastermind behind it all was nestled among Krytan nobility. It was almost unthinkable. Whoever schemed up this plot was surely a cold, dangerous individual. Honestly, it made him fear a bit for his safety... and Natalia's.

Not that his lifelong friend wasn't a formidable woman in her own right; she was a Solane, after all, and her keen eye for detail meant that she had quite the knack for getting herself out of trouble. But she had an even bigger knack for getting herself _into_ trouble, and whomever it was behind all this was unlikely to be the “live-and-forgive” type. _On the other hand_ , he reasoned, _she is under her mother's protection._ While Faren knew that Natalia was resentful of how her mother's careful watch had doubled down in intensity after Deborah's tragic death, he also knew that having someone that ruthless and that willing to protect you at your back was quite the boon.

“ _Faren..._ ”

The soft, icy croon from behind him sent a chill down Faren's spine that left him frozen in fear. _She's always had a knack for showing up right when you're thinking about her._ He didn't dare to turn around. “Lady Solane,” he said. The words felt heavy in his throat, and his voice cracked as he spoke. “Back so soon? I was sure you said that you wouldn't be back until midday.”

“It _is_ midday, Faren.”

Ah. "So it is! Well, you know what they say: time flies when you're having fun and all that." He could already feel his willpower begin to crack under the fearsome stare boring into the back of his head.

"Mm." Her voice took on a tone of amusement. "From what I've heard, you've had a lot of fun this past night. So many stories, so many gossips willing to tell them..."

“Ah, milady, you know what gossips are like!” He scrambled to think of an excuse to get out of there. “Well, it's been wonderful running into you again, but I'm afraid I simply must be off. The work of a lord is never done, after all, as I'm sure you no doubt know very well. Farewell!”

He rushed to leave, but before he could get anywhere a slender hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back with an iron grip. “Oh, but it's been such a long time since we've spoken. Please, I insist that you join me for some tea. We have _so_ much to talk about.”

Faren grimaced. _Sorry, Natalia, but it seems I've lost this battle..._

* * *

“Would you hurry _up_ with it, already?!”

"I'm working on it!" Natalia snapped, weaving between Tamini blades and axes as she made a break for the final catapult. Escorting Fursarai and his pack bull across Scaver Plateau had been a simple task, right up until they had reached the garrison itself. The Seraph had been about to let them pass through when a contingent of centaurs had begun bombarding the garrison with catapults, forcing them to close the gates until the siege ended. Natalia couldn't afford to wait, partially because she needed the information about the letters as soon as possible, and partially because she and Fursarai were still trapped on the plateau _with_ the centaurs. So she'd gone off to deal with the siege, slipping past the centaurs and taking down their equipment with strategically placed mines.

And now there was only one catapult left, and the centaurs had noticed her. She propelled herself forward with her boots, barely avoiding the barbed tip of a Tamini arrow as it flitted past her shoulder. As her feet hit the ground, she ducked down into a roll, a land mine in one hand and the detonator in the other as she stopped in a crouch. She lobbed the mine at the catapult and watched as it slid to a halt underneath the catapult.

_“Lady Solane!”_

The Seraph soldier's panicked cry caught her attention, and she whirled around to see a Tamini warrior bearing down on her, ax raised. She dodged just in time, leaping to the side and making a break for the garrison. "Open the gate!" she shouted. "Now!"

The Seraph on the ramparts blanched “But the catapult–”

“ _I've got the catapult_ , just get the gate open!”

The Seraph stared at her a moment longer before turning and shouting, "Open the gate!" With a mighty creak, the gate began to swing open. Cin wasted no time in ushering his pack bull through and rushing inside himself. Natalia was drawing closer to the gate, but the thundering sound of hooves behind her told her that she wasn't alone. The centaur was behind her, and it was gaining quickly. She'd need to distract her pursuer if she were to have any chance of escaping with her head still attached to her body.

Luckily, she had one. The moment her boot hit the bridge, she pulled the trigger of the detonator, and the resulting explosion behind them shook the ground and drove the centaur behind her to a confused halt. As the last catapult collapsed in flames, Natalia dove for the gates, passing through just as they began to close again. She hit the ground with a thud and a relieved wheeze. “Damn it,” she coughed. “That was close.” Looking up at the Seraph, she asked, “Is all well?”

“The centaurs are backing off for now,” the Seraph replied. “They'll be back for sure, but at least they're not trying to break down our walls.” He grinned down at her. “That's twice you've saved the garrison from centaurs, milady. You trying to make a habit of it?”

"Not intending to, no. Though I certainly don't mind being given the opportunity to fight centaurs." Natalia devoted her attention to Cin, who was carefully examining his wares for signs of damage. "Well, I got you and your pack bull here to the garrison. From here on out, the road to Divinity's Reach shouldn't give you and troubles." She pulled out the letters. "I've held up my end of the bargain. Time for you to do the same."

"Right, right, of course." Cin took the letters, running a careful eye over the paper as though he were appraising a fine jewel. "I recognize this," he murmured. "This paper was made of pulp from the serborhin tree. I've only ever made the one ream; serbohin pulp is rare, and most can't afford paper of this quality."

“Do you remember who bought it?” Natalia pressed.

“Of course I do,” Cin said sharply. “Would you forget the name of your firstborn child? I sold this paper to Minister Zamon, here in Divinity's Reach. He has exceptional taste.”

_Zamon._ Natalia's blood boiled at his very name. Of _course_ , it had to be Zamon. He'd never made any secret of his disdain for the queen and the Seraph, and he'd recently come upon a great deal of rather inexplicable wealth. If he'd been hiring bandits to rob noble estates, that would explain how he'd acquired his newfound fortune. “Thank you,” she said. “If we can bring Zamon to trial, you'll likely be called to testify, so try not to leave Divinity's Reach in the meantime.”

Cin scoffed. “How very quaint. If the ministry sends a formal summons, then so be it. At least they'll use decent parchment on the paper. Now, hurry along. I've no more need of a bodyguard, and I must make sure that none of my goods were damaged. If they were, I'm sending you the bill.”

“Sure,” Natalia said. “Just send it along to the Solane estate. I'm sure my mother will be glad to accommodate you.” She took a little more satisfaction than necessary in the way Cin paled at the mention of her family name before turning around and striding away. She needed to get this information back to Logan right away.

If she didn't, Zamon might find out, and there was no telling what he would do to keep her quiet.

* * *

“Trying to recruit Allegra's daughter, Logan? After what happened with her eldest? How very _bold_ of you.”

“I'm not trying to recruit her,” Logan stated flatly as he pored over reports. “She has her own reasons for seeking out Fursarai. I just told her where he was likely to be, that's all. I'm certainly not doing just to spite her mother.” He looked up, his gaze meeting with the cold, silvery-blue gaze of Countess Anise. “Why are you so interested, anyway? There are more important things to focus on here. Someone is conspiring against the queen, right under our noses.”

“And if someone so much as frown at the upper city gardens disapprovingly, the Shining Blade will know about it. Don't act as though I don't take threats against the queen seriously, Logan. I'm simply capable of devoting my thoughts to two matters at once. Besides, this girl intrigues me.” A thoughtful expression crosses Anise's face. “Most nobles aren't so brash as to charge into the fray with little more than a powder rifle and a loose assortment of grenades. And I've always been curious as to just what it was about Allegra's daughters that would inspire her to adopt them despite the scandal it would undoubtedly bring upon her household.”

Well, perhaps you'll see for yourself,” Logan said. “She's sure to arrive back from Queensdale soon. Hopefully, with the information we need." Honestly, he'd expected Natalia to have returned by now. Had she run into trouble along the route to the trading post? He pushed those thoughts out of his mind and focused on the paperwork in front of him. Once Natalia had told him of the letters she and Faren had discovered, he'd dug up the reports of every bandit raid in the past few months, hoping to find connecting threads between all of them. "All of the attacks have been against noble houses," he said. "Or highway ambushes against noble-backed caravans. Whatever the political motivation is, I don't doubt that greed is playing a part here. And whoever it is must be very well-informed; the attack on the party was the first time someone was actually home when the bandits came calling. If only we had a name..."

As if on cue, the door to the Seraph headquarters swung open and Natalia stepped inside. As she neared his desk, Lohan noticed that the hem of her emerald coat was grayed with dirt, and her breathing was slightly labored, as though she'd run all the way back from Queensdale. "Solane," he said. "It's good to see you. I was beginning to worry."

“Sorry,” Natalia said. “There were... some complications.”

“Cin was more troublesome than expected, I take it?”

“No, no, he was cooperative. After I escorted him and his pack bull across Scavver Plateau and almost got beheaded taking down some centaur catapults.” Natalia pulled the letters out from her coat and presented them to him. “But it was all worth it. I got a name – Zamon. He's the one that purchased this paper, and Fursarai will testify to that in court.”

_Minister Zamon?_ Logan was surprised. Zamon was never what he would consider a trustworthy person, no, but there was a difference between less-than-legal business practices and outright _treason._ "As useful as that information is, we won't be able to call Zamon to trial without more evidence backing up our claims. Krytan law is very specific on that front." Anise cleared her throat pointedly from next to him. "Ah, of course. Where are my manners?" he deadpanned. "Solane, allow me to introduce Countess Anise, Master Exemplar of the Shining Blades."

Natalia's eyes lit up. “Countess Anise? I'm Natalia Solane. It's a pleasure to meet you,” she said, dipping into a brief bow. “I've heard a great deal about you.”

Anise looked amused. “Oh? I wasn't aware your mother speaks so highly of me.”

“She, uh, she certainly speaks _of_ you.”

“I expected as much. Allegra's never been fond of me.”

"Getting back to the matter at hand," Logan said, "we need to find some way to get the evidence we need. If we need to, we can search Zamon's house when he's away. It's a bit unorthodox, but the law does allow it if someone's in danger or there's cause to believe treason is involved." Both were the case here.

“And since when have you ever done things the orthodox way, Logan?” Anise replied, shooting a teasing glance at him.

Natalia seemed to consider it. "It has merit," she said. "Given that what's been stolen was too valuable and too recognizable to simply be fenced off, his house is the only place I can think of where he might keep them." She shrugged. "All right. I'm in."

_“No, you most certainly are not!”_

The sharp, dreadfully familiar voice split through the conversation, bring an uneasy silence down upon the three would-be investigators. Logan looked up, and what he saw confirmed his fears; there, standing poised in the light streaming in through the nearest window, stood a woman in her early fifties, clad in an elaborate dress sewn from rich purples and golds. Her short, black hair sat against her jawline in tightly-wound curls, with a few hints of silver peeking out at her temples that matched the steely hue of her gray eyes. Her brows were creased together in anger, sending the dark bronze of her forehead into sharp relief in the sunlight. Logan had seen that expression on that face more times than he cared to count, and it was enough to fill him with a sense of apprehension at the scene that was sure to follow.

On his right, Anise looked amused more than anything, eagerly awaiting for the inevitable blowout. In contrast, Natalia's expression was that of simply mild exasperation, her frown having deepened slightly at the woman's voice. After a couple more seconds of aching silence, she let out a small sigh and turned around. Leaning against the desk, she asked in a surprisingly light tone, “So, how did you get him to talk _this_ time?”

To Logan's relief, Allegra Solane's mouth quirked upwards into a satisfied smirk. “I simply reminded dear young Faren that I am well aware of his current, ahem, _interest_ in Baroness Jasmina, _and_ of my current business dealings with her family. Once he understood how easily I could drop a wrong word into the right ear, he became _very_ cooperative.”

Natalia ran a hand over her face. “Of course you did. Not sure why I keep trusting him as a secret-keeping, all things considered,” she muttered before looking up to meet her mother's gunmetal gaze. “Mom, I know that' you're worried, but–”

“'Worried' doesn't _begin_ to cover it,” Lady Solane snapped. “Half a _week_ you've been off playing soldier in Queensdale, Natalia. First I hear that you've gone and gotten yourself seriously hurt fighting centaurs in Shaemoor, and now I come back to hear that you're off gallivanting in bandit dens with Faren! And in all this time, I've not seen one glimpse of you! You couldn't even be bothered to stop by and assure my you were well once you woke up!”

"You were away on business!"

“You clearly didn't think I'd be gone for long, seeing as how you ordered Faren _and_ one of our staff to keep quiet about it all! And you!” Lady Solane turned her anger towards Logan, who didn't flinch under the ferocity of her stare. “Was Deborah's life not enough for you? Natalia isn't even one of your Seraph, and yet you have her running around, risking her life doing _your_ errand work!”

Logan opened his mouth to retort, but Natalia beat him to it, raising a hand to stop him as she stepped between him and her mother. “Logan hasn't asked me to do anything, she said. “I went to rescue Faren because he's my friend. I went to rescue our staff because they're good people and it's our job as their employers to ensure their well-being. And I continued to look into the matter because _Minister Zamon_ ” –she slammed the letters down onto the desk– “thinks he can get away with hurting _my_ people for his own gain!”

The crease between Lady Solane's eyebrows deepened, this time in bemusement. “Minister– Give me that.” She crossed the room and grabbed the letter, reading through them all with an increasingly angry expression. By the time she reached the final page, she was fuming. “Are you _certain_ that Minister Zamon was the one who orchestrated all this?”

"Without a doubt," Natalia replied, folding her arms over her chest. "I sold out the papermaker responsible for that parchment and he confirmed that Minister Zamon is the only one who could have written it. And he's agreed to testify, should we get enough evidence to bring this to trial."

“That conniving bastard,” Lady Solane muttered. “Daring to arrange an attack on _my_ daughter and _my_ servants on _my_ estate? For what? Some half-baked smear campaign against the throne? I'll have his finances _strangled_ for this – assuming he still has any legitimate forms of income left, that is.” She looked up at her daughter. “Zamon's poor decisions aside, I still cannot abide you being so careless as to consider breaking into his manor for evidence. He will almost certainly have hire mercenaries to protect his estate, and I will not hear that my daughter got herself killed by sellswords while snooping around a traitor's estate.”

"Mother, Cin's testimony will mean something, but it won't be enough to arrange a trial," Natalia said. "You know the laws on this matter as well as I do. If we want to bring Zamon to justice, we need more evidence than his choices in stationery."

“Then let the Seraph secure the evidence necessary,” Lady Solane retorted. “That is part of their job, after all.” Her gaze slid back to Logan. “Unless Captain Thackeray is so insecure in his soldiers' competence that he needs to rely on outside help with his investigations?”

_That_ was what made Logan bristle, more than anything else she'd said since she arrived _._ “I'm surprised that you're so quick to attack the Seraph,” he said, “considering that your daughter was one.”

He didn't regret the jab until he saw Natalia flinch and withdraw slightly. _Damn it._ That was unfair to her, and it was unfair to Deborah's memory. Sergeant Solane wouldn't want her service being used as a weapon against her mother, not like this.

Lady Solane's gaze turned to gray ice. “Yes,” she said, drawing closer until she was close enough to place her hands flat against Logan's desk. “Deborah was a Seraph. She put her trust in her fellow soldiers. She put her trust in _you._ ” She leaned over the desk to lock eyes with him, a mix of fury and grief blazing within her glare. “And that trust didn't even earn her a proper burial. So, tell me, Captain Thackeray, why _I_ should trust you not to let the same thing happen to my other daughter!”

_“Mother._ " Natalia's voice was firm as she interjected. "Deborah knew the risks. I know the risks." It was very faint, but Logan was certain he could hear a tremble in her voice. Whatever it was, Lady Solane clearly recognized it as well; her gaze softened as she turned to look up at her daughter. "Everything we do involves a certain amount of risk," Natalia continued. "And while we bicker over the worth of my own life, Minister Zamon is putting the lives of innocent people, _good_ people, at risk, all because of his own greed and grudges.” She turned to face her mother, and Logan was struck by the spark of verdant determination in her one visible eye. “'No shade to our enemies.' That's our motto. And every second we waste debating is another second we allow Zamon to figure out how to get out of this. And we can't allow that to happen.”

For a few seconds, the room was silent. Even the Seraph on guard had gone quiet as they watched the scene warily. Then Lady Solane sighed, the fury in her posture having dissipated. “I do wish you wouldn't use my own lessons against me,” she said. “Though, I suppose part of that was my own fault. I didn't raise you to be compliant. You are dead-set on this course of action, then?”

“If there's a better option, I'm willing to hear it,” Natalia said. “But we need to get that evidence if we're to stand a chance to bring Zamon to task for his crimes.”

“Actually, if I may,” Countess Anise said, stepping forward. Immediately Logan could see a bit of disdain return to Lady Solane's gaze, but Anise seemingly ignored it and kept speaking. “Minister Wi is holding a party tonight, and I just so happen to have a copy of the guest list. Both the Solane and the Zamon families are invited, so it'll be a good opportunity to size up both Zamon and his allies.”

“There we go,” Natalia said, turning pointedly to her mother. “Parties are great for gossip. We'll be sure to get something out of it, and we'll be doing it in a place safe enough for your liking.”

"Much better," Lady Solane said with a smile. "It would also be a good opportunity to remind the other families exactly how we earned our reputation. And I've been hoping for the chance to meet up with Minister Wi, anyhow. He and his wife make for wonderful company."

“Then it's settled,” Anise said. “I'll be joining the two of you at the party, and we can discuss where to go from there.” As she began to walk away, she added, “It'll be quite an exciting evening. Having the hero of Shaemoor on my arm will make tongues wag.”

As Anise vanished from sight, Lady Solane turned to Natalia. “I suppose you already know my opinions on the matter, but I'll say it anyway; be wary around her. At best, she sees you as a curiosity. At worst, she sees you as a tool.”

“Relax, Mother. She's got as much a reason to take Zamon down as we do. He's a traitor to the crown, after all.”

“Perhaps. But it's dangerous to trust her so blindly, Natalia, remember that.” Lady Solane reached out and straightened Natalia's cravat. “Now, you should get yourself cleaned up before the party. You look like you've been trampled by centaurs.”

“I almost was.”

“And that's the problem. Come on, now. I won't have the biggest gossip of the night be about the dirt on your boots. Especially when tonight promises to be so much more important than that...”

The two women left, leaving Logan alone with the reports on his desk. With a weary sigh, he got back to work. The idea of crashing Minister Wi's party and playing politics didn't appeal to him much; he preferred the direct method of dealing with lawbreakers, and nobles always had a knack for making his life more difficult than it needed to be. Still, he thought, if that's what it took to bring Zamon to justice, then so be it.

_Your noble friends have a way of making my life very interesting, Solane. I hope you can return the favor._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID YOU KNOW that Grammarly is the greatest and I love it forever?
> 
> Also, Allegra Solane is my favorite character to write for. You'll get to see more of her next chapter.


	5. A Noble's Element

****“Well, don't you look _fetching_.”

Natalia couldn't help but blush a little at the flattery as she and her mother approached Countess Anise, who was standing at a corner Wi's manor. "That's very nice of you to say, Countess," she replied, fidgeting with her cravat. "I'll admit, it's been a while since I've been in formal wear." She'd switched out her typical adventuring gear for a dark emerald overcoat made of fine wool, which was laid over a golden tapestry vest and a dark brown dress with a layered skirt that met the cuff of her short, lace-up boots at the ankle, concealing the white stockings underneath. While not the snug-sleeved look that was the current fashion among the upper classes these days, it was still fancier than her usual fare. She also left her eyepiece at home, and the sensation of both her eyes being bared like that left her feeling rather _exposed_.

If her nervousness showed at all, however, Anise didn't comment on it. “Well, it suits you. I have no doubt in your ability to turn heads this evening,” she said. “And not simply because of your new heroic title.”

“I doubt I'll be the one turning heads tonight,” Natalia rebutted. “After all, it's not every day that the queen's right-hand woman attends a party just for the sake of attending a party, is it?”

Anise's composed smirk didn't waver. “Indeed. Which is why I'll be spending the evening playing the role of the honored guest and drawing the attention of the nosier nobles towards myself. You'll have to do most of the actual work, I'm afraid.” Her gaze flitted between Natalia and Lady Solane. “I'm sure I don't have to tell the two of you how parties like this work.”

“This isn't my first soiree, Countess,” Lady Solane said, her voice clipped. “You needn't worry about me unraveling whatever you have planned. _My_ biggest worry is Zamon; as soon as he sees the leader of the Shining Blade here at what should be a normal function, he will immediately suspect that his crimes have been uncovered."

"Which is why my agents have ensured that Minister Zamon will be arriving fashionably late tonight," Anise replied. "We'll have the time we need if we're quick and deliberate. But we should get going. My agents are among the best, but even they will not be able to delay Zamon forever." She held her hand out towards Natalia expectantly. "Well then, hero, shall we?"

Natalia nodded and held out her arm for Anise to take, and together the three women rounded the corner and approached the Wi manor, where Minister Wi was standing and greeting guests as they crossed the threshold. “Ah, Lady Solane,” he said as he turned to bow to Natalia's mother. “It is good to see you. I trust that your investments have been holding up?”

"As well as they can be with Zhaitan breathing down everyone's necks, yes," Lady Solane said with a cordial nod and a sweeping curtsy. "But talk of the dragons should be saved for the war room. Tonight is for festivities. It is an honor to be invited, Minister."

"The honor is mine," Minister Wi said. He turned to Natalia. "And I see you've brought your daughter and... C-Countess Anise!" he sputtered as his gaze fell upon Anise, who looked quite pleased with the reaction her presence caused. "What a surprise, I wasn't expecting–"

“Whatever do you mean, Minister?” Anise said. “You invited me, did you not?”

“I– I did, yes. Forgive me. It is not your attendance that surprises me, as much is it is your company. I wasn't aware you were... acquainted with the Solane family.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Natalia could see her mother opening her mouth to speak, but Anise interjected before she could get a word out. “Well, Logan spoke quite fondly of this new hero and how she helped save Shaemoor from the centaur attack. When I heard, I simply had to meet her for myself.”

“Ah, of course. Your name has been on the lips of every gossip in the city, Natalia.” He turned to face her mother once more. “You must be very proud, Allegra.”

“I've always been proud of my daughters, Minister,” Lady Solane said firmly. “I'm simply happy to see the rest of Kryta is beginning to recognize the brilliance I've known was there from the beginning.”

“Indeed. And I must say, it is a welcome breath of relief to hear that some good fortune has befallen your family, after what happened to–” Minister Wi cut himself off just as Natalia felt her chest begin to tighten. “Well, let's not discuss that. It's as you said; this is a party. Please, come in. I've had my servants bring up some of our finest champagne for tonight.”

The three of them entered the manor, and Anise removed her slender fingers from their position at Natalia's arm. “Well, pet, now is your time to prove yourself. Go charm the masses; you know where to find me if you need me.” With that, she strode off in the direction of the refreshments table, starting up a conversation with one of the hovering ministers.

“Natalia.” Lady Solane reached out to adjust Natalia's cravat. “Remember, this isn't just about incriminating Zamon. This is about making a statement. That man had the gall to target us in a pitiful attempt at political maneuvering.” Her gaze turned to bitter steel, and her mouth hardened into a thin line. “Remind our peers why that is a bad idea.”

“I won't disappoint you, Mom.”

“You never have.” Satisfied with her work, Lady Solane pulled back with a nod. “Now go. I can see Minister Wi beckoning me from over here.” She hurried off, leaving Natalia alone to scan the room carefully in search of where to begin.

Her gaze fell upon Baroness Yolanda. _As good a place as any._ Yolanda's penchant for gossip was well-known; if there was anyone who could point her in the direction of some interesting goings on, it would be her. Natalia wove through the party guests, politely nodding her greetings at those who waved and ducking beneath a proffered platter – _ooh, Divinity mushrooms_ – to reach the blonde noblewoman. “Baroness Yolanda,” she said amicably. “I'm glad to see you. I trust you were able to make it out safely after the little... incident at the estate?”

Yolanda looked positively delighted to see her, which was never a good sign. “Oh, don't you worry about me, dear, I'm fine!” she said. “I'm much more interested in what's going on with you. Was that truly Countess Anise I saw on your arm earlier?” Her gaze gleamed eagerly. “I was under the impression your mother wasn't fond of her.”

“W-what could have given you that idea?”

"Well, your mother's constant bad-mouthing of the dear Countess every time she gets a little too tipsy was one hint. And yet..." Yolanda looked at her expectantly.

Natalia awkwardly cleared her throat. “The countess took an interest in me after she heard about what happened in Shaemoor. Purely professional, mind, before you go getting any ideas,” she added when she saw Yolanda's face light up. “I don't want to wake up tomorrow morning and hear that you've told half the nobility that I'm having an affair with the queen's right-hand woman.”

“Oh, you're as droll as your mother sometimes. Still, first Captain Thackeray, now Countess Anise... if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were on your way to having dinner parties with the queen herself, my dear!” Yolanda said. “You must tell me what the Countess is like. Is she as charming as they say?”

“She's a good woman,” Natalia said, leaning against the nearest pillar. “But I'm sure I'm not the only person you've been nosing around. Any good scandals simmering underneath all this champagne?” With a sweep of her arm, she gestured to the party.

Yolanda eyed her curiously “Since when are you so interested in the local gossip?”

“Since I got ditched by both my mother _and_ my date,” Natalia joked. “Don't act like you're not itching to talk my ear off.”

“Well, since you asked...” Yolanda moved closer, her voice dropping to an almost-whisper. “I heard there's been a bit of strife between the Zamon siblings.”

Now _that_ was a lead. Natalia leaned forward, struggling to manage the level of interest apparent on her face; she didn't want Yolanda to start asking questions she couldn't safely answer. “Oh? And here I was just thinking how _personable_ Minister Zamon is.”

Yolanda giggled. "Oh, yes, it's been the word on every servant's lips. Apparently, Madeline and Julius had quite a row earlier. Whatever it was, it was severe enough that Lady Madeline came to the party alone, separate from her brother." She nodded towards the grand banister, where Lady Madeline Zamon sat with an unhappy expression on her face. "Speaking of, it's strange that Minister Zamon is so late to the party..."

Natalia had the information she needed. Now she just needed a way to get out of this conversation, lest she finder herself trapped in an endless loop of petty gossip. She looked around frantically for a lifeline, finding it in the form of a familiar brown coiffure bobbing above the crowd. "Ah, there he is. Forgive me, my lady, but I need to talk to Lord Faren about something. Just some business between friends, you know how it is."

Baroness Yolanda looked disappointed. “Very well. But don't think this means you're off the hook. I'll nose out just what it is that you and the countess are up to, just you wait.”

"Don't be too disappointed when you don't find anything. Excuse me, I really must go." Without waiting for a response, Natalia moved past Yolanda and pushed towards where she'd seen Faren pass by just a moment ago. She didn't want to confront Lady Madeline just yet; Yolanda would surely catch notice of that, and she didn't want to draw gossip if she could help it. Spending some time with Faren and the other guests would allow her to maintain her guise of just another innocent attendee, mingling with the masses and seeking no benefit except perhaps a few extra connections for her family.

Besides, she had matters she needed to discuss with Faren, anyway.

* * *

_Careful there, pet. You don't want to tip your hand._

Having spent years honing the delicate art of social manipulation, Anise was a master at holding a conversation with one person while her attention was devoted to another. In this instance, that meant engaging in small talk with Lady Wi while in fact carefully watching Natalia navigate the crowds out of the corner of her eye. Anise's initial assessment of the Hero of Shaemoor's sense for the game had been all too accurate; while she had charm and a sharp eye for leads, she lacked the patience necessary to be a true player. Running straight to the local gossip had been Natalia's first mistake. Gossips knew everything, yes, but that was because they stuck their noses into every matter they could sniff out, and if they suspected that there was something scandalous afoot, they would chase it down relentlessly.

Indeed, Baroness Yolanda was watching Natalia leave with a dangerously interested expression. Something Natalia had said or done had tipped the baroness off to the existence of an ulterior motive. Anise couldn't step in to distract Yolanda and run damage control; that would only raise further suspicion. Natalia was on her own in this matter.

And just as well, because Lady Wi had just said something that caught Anise's full attention. “–just a shame about what's been going on lately, with the burglaries and now the kidnapping.”

“Oh?” Anise asked, dipping into the role of the appropriately intrigued guest.

Lady Wi's eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “Well, surely you've heard by now, Your Excellency,” she said. “The burglaries all throughout Rurikton and the Salma district? And then there was that incident at the Solane estate last night. I hear Lady Jasmina's handmaiden refuses to speak of it, the poor thing.”

“I've heard of it in passing when speaking to Logan,” Anise lied. “We suspect there's an underlying political motive to it all; the burglaries are only happening to well-connected people who have publicly declared their support to the queen.” That part was true, and safe to reveal. The Wi family had always been staunch Krytan loyalists. Besides, Anise knew of Lady Wi's true allegiances. There was no reason to be needlessly duplicitous with a member of the Order of Whispers; the shadowy organization knew everything worth knowing already, and it was always a bad idea to place oneself against them.

“Political motivations? Do you think it's the separatists?” Lady Wi asked, playing her own role as the ingenuous noble. “They've been causing such a fuss in Ebonhawke...”

"It's certainly a possibility. From what I hear, Logan's soldiers are investigating the matter further. In the meantime, I don't think you have anything to fear, my lady," Anise said, nodded to one of the many Ministry guards that stood watch at the doors and stairwells. "You certainly seem well-protected enough tonight. I doubt there will be a repeat of last night."

“Oh, certainly. My husband has taken every precaution to ensure that tonight will be a gratifying evening for everyone. Speaking of which, I must be going, Your Excellency. A proper hostess cannot devote her entire night to a single guest, no matter how esteemed. I'm honored by your attendance.” She dipped into a small curtsy.

“I should be the one expressing my gratitude for your invitation, my lady,” Anise said, returning the gesture. “I shall give the queen your regards. Good evening.” She took note of the way Lady Wi's face lit up at the mention of the queen before she hurried off to greet more guests. Zamon still had yet to arrive; the Blades' detour had proven successful. Rather than seeking out another guest to engage in small talk with, Anise chose to loiter around the refreshments table, pretending to mull over which appetizer to select from. She'd no need to speak with _everyone_ at the party, after all.

Besides, company would seek her out soon enough.

“I know what you're up to.”

Ah, there it was. Lady Solane had been glowering at Anise from across the ballroom since they arrived at the party. “Why, Lady Solane, I don't know what you mean,” Anise replied coyly, looking up from the refreshments table.

Lady Solane was unimpressed. "You know damn well what I'm talking about," she hissed. "It's the same thing with everyone else who catches your 'interest.' Natalia isn't a toy for you to play with until you tire of her, and she's not a tool for you to exploit until you have no use for her. She's my _daughter_ , not an asset.”

Anise dropped the innocent act. “Everyone is an asset in our line of work, Allegra.”

“Not her,” Lady Solane insisted. “Not my daughter. Not for you.”

Now _, this_ was entertaining. Lady Solane might have been a big fish in her pond of nobles and merchants, but Anise was bigger than any of them and they both knew it. And yet that didn't stop Lady Solane from making thinly-veiled threats to the queen's right-hand woman. Anise knew that she was protective of her children – her little outburst in response to Logan's poorly-timed comment about Deborah had proven that – but she hadn't expected this.

Had the situation allowed her, she would have gladly explored this newfound facet of Lady Solane's, to see just what could be made of it and whether it would prove beneficial to the Shining Blade's goals in the long run. But there were more pressing matters at hand, so she chose instead to look back over at where Natalia had gone off to. To her surprise, the younger woman was speaking with Lord Faren, a frustrated look on her face and a sheepish look on his. "Now, what is she up to, I wonder?"

“What?” Lady Solane followed Anise's gaze. “Oh. Catching up with her friend, no doubt.”

“An interesting choice of friends.”

“They've known each other since they were both children. It is to be expected that they remained good friends, despite Faren's numerous... _quirks of personality._ ”

“Quite the diplomatic assessment.”

“Natalia likes him well enough. I try to be kind.”

“It seems that rule doesn't apply to everyone.”

“Faren is also a very _earnest_ lad. He's a womanizer and a fool, but he is not duplicitous. I _trust_ him with Natalia's happiness, though I suspect that she's the one protecting him more often than not. I cannot say the same for you or Captain Thackeray.”

Anise smirked. "I see. It doesn't seem like she's very happy to see him at the moment."

“Given how I found out about her little adventure in the bandit den?” The corner of Lady Solane's mouth turned upwards into an amused smirk. “No, I don't suppose she is.”

* * *

“Faren, you Six-damned _idiot_ , I asked you to do _one thing!_ ”

“Y-yes, you did, but you know how cunning your mother is! She threatened to hurt me in ways you couldn't possibly imagine!”

“She threatened to tell Jasmina's father about your little crush, you _ass._ ” Natalia pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a noise that lay somewhere between a hum and a groan. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap, it's just... she's going to be keeping me on a _very_ tight leash for the next few weeks. Months. Decades.”

“ _Well_ ," Faren began hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's possible that would have been the outcome anyway. You are... ahem... involving yourself in very important matters at the moment. It's very likely that your mother would have found out even if I hadn't been pressured into telling her up-front. News travels fast in Divinity's Reach, after all!"

Natalia ran her hand across her face. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. I really am sorry about this. I don't want to keep secrets from her, not really, but the way she's been after Deborah's... after Debs'...” Her hand fell limply to her side. _Damn it._ She flushed furiously against the painful prickly of tears that formed out of the corner of her eye. Even now, six months after Logan had brought her family the tags that now weighed heavy underneath her cravat, it was difficult to talk about it directly.

Faren seemed to sense her growing distress and quickly changed the subject. “Uh, speaking of our daring adventures, did your lead turn up any useful information? Did you find out who was responsible for the–”

“ _Faren!_ ” Natalia hissed, cutting him off before he could say anything incriminating within earshot of the other guests. “Don't you think this is something we should discuss _outside_? Away from all the noise?”

Faren suddenly looked very flustered. “W-well, yes, but you see, there's a bit of trouble with that. I can't go out in the gardens right now, you see.”

“What? Why not?”

“ _Jasmina's_ out there.”

What. “Faren, what did you do now?”

“I didn't do anything!” Faren exclaimed defensively. “It's just that, well, dearest Jasmina only keeps talking about _you_ and your newly-bestowed title of valor, and when I brought up our friendship and my role in your daring rescue mission last night, she thought I was lying and that I only brought it up to charm her!”

Natalia raised an eyebrow. " _Did_ you bring it up just to charm her?”

“Maybe, yes, but that doesn't mean it's not true!”

“Oh, _Faren._ ” A thought crossed Natalia's mind. “Wait, what about her handmaiden? She was among the people we rescued. Can't she corroborate your story?”

“I thought of that, but the poor thing refuses to speak of the matter. It seems as though she's got... what's that charr saying? Shot shock?”

“ _Shell shock_. It's shell shock. Look...” Natalia began, placing her hands on her hips. “I'm not going to try and convince her to accept your courtship attempts, but I can at least tell her that you were being honest about going to help rescue the hostages. Will that help ease your nerves?”

Faren's expression immediately lit up. “Do you really mean that?” he asked.

“If it will keep you from badgering traumatized handmaidens? Yes. Besides, I've been wanting to talk to you about how things went with Cin. I didn't have the chance before, mostly because _someone_ tipped off my mother about my work.” Natalia patted Faren's shoulder. “You stay here, I'll go charm Jasmina silly on your behalf.”

“Thank you, old friend!” Faren sighed in relief. “I promise, I won't forget this. Please feel free to include mention how Swordmaster Bongo once said my fencing skills were like nothing he'd ever seen!”

_Oh, Faren. Never change._

Natalia headed towards the Wi estate gardens, where sure enough Baroness Jasmina sat near a trellis covered in morning glories. Her handmaiden stood nearby, a hollow expression on her pale face. Natalia cleared her throat, catching the attention of both women. “Baroness Jasmina?” she said.

“Oh!” the young baroness exclaimed in a near-squeak. She jumped to her feet, brushing her short, honey-brown hair out of her face. “Lady Solane! Or... that's your mother, isn't it, _you're_ the Hero of Shaemoor now. I was hoping I would get to see you tonight. I was talking to Lady Madeline early about how I wasn't sure if you would make it, but...” She gestured to Natalia, almost endearing in her newfound awkwardness. “Here you are! I'm almost breathless.”

“I'm flattered, my lady. I was actually hoping I could speak to you. A friend of mine's been singing your presence lately. He's... quite enraptured, honestly.” Though with Faren, that wasn't anything new.

Baroness Jasmina raised an eyebrow. "A friend? Who–" Realization flitted across her face. "Oh. Faren. He's been trying to court me for a good week now. Just now, he made up some story about being the one to save my handmaiden from those terrible brigands that attacked your party. He even started haranguing her about it, the lout."

_Faren..._ Natalia grimaced. "Actually... can we sit down for a second? That's actually what I wanted to talk about." Baroness Jasmina looked confused but sat back down, and Natalia joined her on the bench. “I won't lie to you,” she began. “Faren is... an idiot. He's an idiot, and a philanderer, and just about everything else you already know about him. But he's also my friend, and one thing he's never done is lay claim to adventures he's never been on.”

“You... you mean he _did_ accompany you into the brigand's lair?” Baroness Jasmina said, shocked. “And here I thought he was just another idiot who didn't know his tip from his pommel.”

Natalia suppressed a giggle. "No, no, he's not _that_ bad a swordsman. I don't think he's as good as he thinks he is, but he can easily hold his own in a fight. And... he's got a good heart, Jasmina.” She'd told Faren that she had no intention of doing anything more than clearing up a misunderstanding, and yet, the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth before she could stop them. “He volunteered to join me in rescuing the prisoners, including your handmaiden, even though he'd already been roughed up by his own kidnappers and the very real danger of getting killed by the bandits. I've known him for years, and he doesn't have a mean bone in his body.”

Baroness Jasmina seemed a bit taken aback by Natalia's sudden endorsement. “You speak very highly of him.”

“He's worth speaking highly about, even if it doesn't seem like it on the surface. And if it helps, my mother tolerates him. If he really were just a womanizing lout, she'd never let him set foot on our estate.”

“I see.” Baroness Jasmina looked contemplative. “Perhaps I've been too harsh with the gentleman.”

“Probably not,” Natalia admitted. “He _is_ a bit of an idiot.”

“Still, if he's won _your_ loyalty... Would you be so kind as to give him my regards when you next see him?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Natalia saw a flash of movement behind the bushes. “I'll be sure to do that as soon as possible,” she said. “I'm sure he'll be happy to hear it; I wasn't kidding when I said he was taken with you.” She got to her feet. “I'll leave you alone now.”

“Oh! Don't be a stranger!” Baroness Jasmina called after her as she left.

Natalia made her way towards the bushes where she'd seen the movement. No sooner had she rounded the corner before being hit full-force by a rib-crushing hug, courtesy of Faren. "You're a true friend, Natalia! I couldn't hear what you were saying, but I saw Jasmina's face, and Kormir strike me if she didn't look impressed!"

"Right, right." Natalia wriggled out of his arms. "And for tonight's show, the role of Faren's charisma and way with women shall be played by Natalia."

“You're as cold-witted as your mother, sometimes.”

“Please. If you'd asked my mother to charm a woman on your half, she'd have you strung up before you could even blink. In regards to the real reason I'm at this party...” Natalia glanced through the foliage to make sure that no one was nearby before dropping her voice down to a whisper and continuing. “Cin identified who purchase the paper that the instructions had been written on. It's Minister Zamon, Faren, _he's_ the one that's been ordering the attacks recently.”

She didn't expect Faren to be in total disbelief about this revelation, but she'd expected at least a little surprise or at least indignation over Zamon's treason. Instead, he exclaimed, "I _knew_ it! I knew he was up to no good.”

“Sh-shhh-shh, Faren, keep your voice down!” Natalia hissed. “What do you mean, you _knew?_ ”

“Well, I didn't know about the treason, but not long ago I was having a romantic riverside rendezvous with a, ah, lady friend, and I saw him walking out of the woods near Gibson Portage. Alone! Most suspicious.”

“Alone?” Natalia furrowed her brow. “Those woods are infested with all sorts of dangers. Bandits, centaurs, ornery oakhearts... are you certain he was alone? No guards, no protections of any sort?”

"Certain enough to testify!" Faren declared, thankfully quieter this time. "He was dressed for a dinner party and sauntering through the woods like he was at a ball. I found it unusual at the time, but given what you've just told me, I'm certain now that he was having a rendezvous of his own. Only instead of with a fetching duchess, _he_ was meeting up with one of his thuggish contacts!”

On its own, this would mean nothing to a court. Taking a walk through the woods, however suspiciously, wasn't a crime, and it wouldn't support accusations of anything except maybe a startling lack of self-preservation. But coupled with Cin's identification, alongside whatever other evidence she might uncover at the party... “This is useful information,” she said. “I might just hold you to that testimony, should it come to that. In the meantime, I'll leave you to it. Just... don't mess it up this time, all right? I'm not going to bail you out if you anger Jasmina _again._ ”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Faren said. “I am the very _soul_ of charm.”

_Right. And I'm the Duke of Quarryside._

When Natalia entered the ballroom again, the first thing she noticed was her mother walking down the stairs, a sheepish Baron Edmonds accompanying her. "Bandits or no, Edmonds, lives were lost at my estate," Lady Solane was saying. "and more were traumatized by the event. Your joke was in poor taste."

“O-of course, my lady, I meant no offense,” Baron Edmonds replied, looking down at the floor. “Blame the wine. Rest assured, I shall mind my manners more carefully.”

“See that you do. Enjoy the party, won't you?” Lady Solane dipped into a terse curtsy before immediately hurrying over to the refreshment table, where Natalia waited for her. “Baron Edmonds isn't a bad sort, but he tends to speak before he's had a chance to think. A dangerous habit for a nobleman,” she said, plucking two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing servant.

“Don't suppose he said anything interesting?” Natalia said.

"No. He simply made a poor joke about how many guards are at this party." Lady Solane glanced over at her. "And what of you? I noticed you wasted no time in running off with Faren. Please tell me you didn't get swept up in more dangerous 'adventures.' The two of you have already had enough excitement for one week, I should hope."

Natalia shook her head. "No, simply helped him out with his love life," she replied. "Which I'm sure I'll regret in a week or two, but in the meantime, he did tell me some very interesting stories. Faren is full of surprisingly _germane_ information, turns out.”

The glint in Lady Solane's eyes told Natalia that her innuendo had not gone unnoticed. “I see. Well, perhaps you will have to regale me with these stories after the party.” She handed the two glasses off to Natalia and began not-so-discretely shoving her in the direction of the stairs. “Now go. Shoo. This is a social gathering, after all; go _talk_ to someone. Someone outside your social circle, I mean. It's important to forge good relationships with potential business partners, you know. You never know when the friend of a friend might become the open door to a great opportunity.”

Translation: go talk to someone who might have more direct connections to Zamon. “All right, all right, I can take a hint,” Natalia said. “But just so you know,” she added, “you should be taking your own advice.”

“What?”

“Countess Anise, Mother.” Natalia turned around to face her mother. “I'm not saying you should invite her over for tea tomorrow afternoon, but you should at least try to get along with her. And Logan, to boot. They're both good people, and if you won't do it for that reason, then at least consider what it might mean for your investments. A direct connection to the queen might–”

Lady Solane cut her off, her expression having already turned cold. “I respect Her Majesty, but I don't need her assistance in securing our family's finances. And should I ever decide that I do need her help, I will petition her for such. I don't want Anise's help, and I certainly don't want Thackeray's. That man has brought nothing but misery for our family.”

“You tolerate my friends,” Natalia challenged. “Logan is my friend, as true as any other. He saved my life from an elemental during the attack on Shaemoor. He carried me to the priestesses personally. Why are you so insistent on holding a grudge against him that you refuse to hold against anyone else, even your worst rivals? You've certainly never treated _Faren_ this way!

“ _Faren_ didn't get your sister killed!” Lady Solane retorted. Her voice hit the peak of a crescendo that caused other guests to turn their heads and start murmuring to each other curiously.

“Do you really think that Logan would have assigned her to that patrol if he'd known what would happen to her?” Natalia said, her own voice growing ever louder as the argument escalated.

“That is the _point_! He should have known, Natalia! As captain of the Seraph, it is his responsibility to ensure that the soldiers under his command are safe.”

“How could he have known without sending a patrol? That's why patrols _exist_ , Mother, so that soldiers can discover and deal with dangers along their assigned routes. Deborah knew that; it's why she wanted to be a Seraph in the first place! She wanted to help people, she wanted to keep the roads safe; safe as much for the merchants you invest in as the average farmer, I might add! How can you criticize Logan for his orders when you can't even claim to understand _why Deborah would follow them?_ ”

Only when the two of them had stopped shouting at each other had Natalia realized that the ballroom had grown nearly silent. Her face turned a bright shade of red as she felt the stares of at least a couple dozen nobles upon her. The way her mother's expression flickering from distress to fury to exhausted resignation told her that she, too, realized the scene they'd just caused. “I'm going to go upstairs,” Natalia said quietly. “Send for me if you need me.”

With that, she turned and left.

* * *

_Unbelievable._

Allegra staggered over to the least occupied wall, running a hand through her short, dark curls and sighing. She couldn't tell if the heat in her cheeks was from embarrassment or champagne, but either way, she felt like a fool. How could she have been so cold to Natalia like that? In public, no less; now the only word on everyone's lips would be the growing rift between her and her daughter. But at the same time, she just didn't understand how Natalia could be so callously defensive of the man who'd indirectly caused her sister's death.

No. No, that was a lie. She did understand. Natalia had always been more willing to see the good in people than their faults. It was how she'd managed to stay friends with Faren, despite the latter being a pig-headed lout who cared more about how he appeared to women than his own future among the nobility. The amount of optimism and faith Natalia kept burning in her heart was a powerful tool, but it was also dangerous. She could see through those with no good in them, but nobles were rats, all of them, especially the Ministry. All it would take was someone capable of putting a sufficiently convincing mask over their cruelty.

Mists above, it didn't even have to be cruelty, just incompetence. Natalia had barely known Thackeray half a week, and she was already trusting him with her life. Even taking Deborah out of the picture – not that Allegra ever _would_ – the way Thackeray had failed his guild, Destiny's Edge, was hardly a secret. One of their own had died in a failed assault on Kralkatorrik because he'd turned his back on them, and the entire guild had fallen apart as a result. With that in mind, was it any wonder that Allegra didn't trust him?

“Lady Solane, are you well?”

Allegra looked up to see Minister Wi standing beside her with a concerned expression on his face. “Of course, Minister. I'm just a little weary, that's all,” she assured him. “I apologize for causing a scene. It wasn't my intent to sour your party.” Not like this, anyway. She'd no illusions about what the end of the night would bring.

“Nonsense. This party will need more than a brief familial row to dampen its spirits!” Minister Wi seemed hesitant, as if he were holding something back.

“Spit it out, Minister. You know how I hate being coddled.”

“It's just... I can't claim to truly know what you must be going through, but... I do have a daughter. Valette, you've met her?”

“The violinist? Yes, I have. She's a kind girl, and quite talented.”

“She's our pride and joy. I know... I don't know what you're going through right now, but I know how I would feel if anything were to happen to my daughter. I simply wished to extend my sympathies is all.”

Allegra sighed “It is... appreciated, Minister. Thank you.”

“Of course. I'd be a poor host if I left an esteemed guest to brew in her own discontent, wouldn't I?” Minister Wi glanced up at something beyond them, and a flicker of concern crossed his gaze. “Though I suppose _that_ won't lift your spirits.”

Allegra turned and narrowed her eyes as she saw the latest guest cross the threshold with a scowl on his face. Across the hall, she could see Anise turn her head as well. The distraction had run its course, and Minister Zamon had arrived.

_It seems the final piece is in place. I hope Natalia has found what we need. Best to confront him now, before he spots the countess and catches on._ “To the contrary, Minister,” she said. Putting on her most cutting smile, she pushed away from the wall and started making her way towards the front door, leaving a perplexed Minister Wi behind. “This was _exactly_ what I was waiting for.”

Minister Zamon gave her a wary glare as she approached. Good; she wanted to keep him on his toes. “Lady Solane,” he said. “It is good to see you tonight. Though I'm surprised; should you not be cleaning up the little mess that was your party last night? I heard there was quite a scuffle.”

_Gloating, are we?_ “You should know that it takes far more than a few brigands to shake the Solane family, Zamon,” Allegra retorted, her smile cold and unwavering. “We are a resilient bunch, after all.”

“Yes, like cockroaches.” Zamon looked around. “I don't see your daughter here. Let me guess, she's too busy playing into her new role as the esteemed Hero of Shaemoor? You must be so proud of her.”

“I am. And she's just upstairs, I'll have you know.”

“I see. Well, I hope you can keep her reined in tonight. She was quite the poor host at her and Lord Faren's little soiree. She even had the gall to threaten me. Can you believe it?”

Allegra raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” she said, her voice dropping into a low undertone as she closed the gap between them. “Because _I_ heard – from far more _reputable_ sources – that you were bold enough to slander Deborah's name on _my_ terrace.” Her gunmetal glare turned icy. “You should be more careful about which families you slight, _Julius._ ”

Zamon met her glare with one of his own, bristling. “You may have the rest of these fools shuddering at your name, but you don't scare me. I've dueled cretins like you over less and left them bleeding in the dirt.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Allegra saw a flicker of steel and pale yellow fabric out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, believe me, Minister, there would be no greater pleasure than for me to drag you into the gardens and demand you draw your pistol,” she hissed. “But I wouldn't deny the hangman the chance to test his rope on a traitor's neck.”

As if on cue, a gauntlet-clad hand came down on Zamon's shoulder, eliciting a look of shock from the minister. “Minister Zamon,” Thackeray began, “as Captain of the Seraph in service of her Royal Majesty, Queen Jennah, I call you to trial.”

The surrounding guests, who had already been watching Allegra and Zamon's confrontation, let out a series of scandalized gasps and murmurs. Zamon looked over his shoulder in outrage. “What? How dare you! I demand to know the charge!”

“Burglary, kidnapping, obstruction of justice, conspiring with known criminals, treason... take your pick, Minister,” Anise said, stepping forward through the crowd.

“Ridiculous. You have no proof of these charges.”

"Actually, we do." Now it was Natalia's voice that cut through the gathering crowds. Allegra looked up to see her daughter practically bounding down the stairs, with both a young Ministry guard and a harried-looking Lady Madeline Zamon in tow. “You're bad at covering your tracks, Zamon.”

“You,” Zamon snarled. “I should have known you had a hand in all this.”

Natalia seemingly ignored him and kept speaking. “Numerous witnesses, including from the Ministry Guard and the Zamon family, report a series of unusual behavior and occurrences that line up with both the string of recent burglaries and the orders given to the bandits that carried them out.” She glared at the minister. “That's why you left my party that night, wasn't it? You knew what was going to happen, so you left before the fighting started.”

Zamon scoffed. “Believe whatever you wish. I'm sure the courts will see through this farce.” He turned to Logan. “Let go of me, lapdog. I'll play along, if only to get this over with. And as for _you,_ ” he spat at Allegra, “you'll regret this.”

“Puff up your feathers all you want, Minister,” Allegra replied coolly. “ _Your fate was sealed the moment you threatened my family._ ”

* * *

“You really don't have to do this, you know.”

“Nonsense,” Allegra said, gathering a handful of appetizer plates into her arms. “It's partially my fault the party ended early.”

It had been a couple hours after Minister Zamon had been brought into custody. The scene had irreparably altered the mood of the party, and when Countess Anise made it clear that she wasn't going to indulge their curiosity, they began to disperse, no doubt eager to tell their friends and family what had transpired. Now, only Allegra still remained, helping Minister Wi and his staff clean up where she could.

Minister Wi shook his head. “So, this is all you had planned. I wish you had told me that you had intended to turn my function into a flytrap.” He looked around. “Where did your daughter run off to?”

Allegra passed the stack of plates to a nearby servant, who carried them off to the kitchen. "She went off with Countess Anise and Captain Thackeray to discuss the testimonies she'd gathered. I must admit, I'm surprised that she got Lady Madeline to talk; the woman's always been a bit close-lipped about family matters."

“She is.” Minister Wi was silent for a short time, leaving only the sound of clanking dishes and the distinct _swsh swsh_ of a sweeping broom against the stone floor. Then, he spoke. “Lady Solane, was everything that your daughter said... true?”

“You have your doubts?” Allegra replied.

“Well... no,” Minister Wi admitted. “Minister Zamon never struck me as the magnanimous type, and there's always been... friction between certain members of the Ministry and Her Majesty. Still, to think that someone would be capable of _treason_ , of all things...”

“There will always be snakes in politics, Minister,” Allegra said, straightening up. “That is why people like you and I must do everything in our power to defang them. Or, if that fails... to behead them."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mocking Lord Faren is my favorite pastime. Also, we're almost done with the Politics n' Shit questline. That's its official name, you know.


	6. By Combat Be Judged

“Now, how are you going to present your case?”

"Present Faren's testimony about seeing Zamon in the story first, followed by Lady Madeline's testimony about Zamon's strange meetings at their mother's house," Natalia recounted, tallying the list off on her fingers. "They're both minor enough occurrences to be explained as innocuous, so introduce the case with them and then provide the evidence to prove they're _not._ Have Lady Madeline identify the handwriting on the letter, and then follow up with Fursarai's testimony and identification of the paper. After that, give Reth's testimony about Ministry guards being relocated in tandem with the attacks. We'll be able to protect him from retaliation from within the Ministry Guard, right?”

“I believe your good friend Countess Anise has that matter settled,” Lady Solane said as she tucked the last pin into Natalia's hair. Instead of the usual low-hanging plait that she wore when out and about, Lady Solane had tied Natalia's hair back into an elaborate braided bun to make her appear more presentable to the courts. Luckily, she'd been allowed to keep her eyepiece. “Remember, speak clearly and with conviction. Today's court will be presided over by Minister Caudecus, and he will be predisposed towards one of his fellow Ministers. You must make your case so clearly and deliberately that any attempt on his part to favor Zamon will be seen as deliberate sabotage. You must turn Zamon's name into political poison.”

It had been two weeks since the party. Natalia had delivered the testimonies she'd secured to Anise and Logan for the sake of paperwork, but it was her who was going to present the case itself to the court today. She would have been lying if she said she wasn't nervous. While she understood politics, she rarely engaged with them directly, preferring to let her mother do most of the talking. "He's a traitor, and I'll make sure everyone in the court knows it," she said, only to falter a moment later. "But... what do we do if I fail?"

“If the court is so foolish as to let him walk, then I will take matters into my own hands,” Lady Solane replied primly, turning Natalia around to face her so she could smooth out the lapels of her coat. “I will ruin him.”

“You might have to fight Logan for that honor,” Natalia teased. “He looked like he was almost _hoping_ for Zamon to resist arrest.”

“Hrmph.” Lady Solane quickly pursed her lips, but Natalia was certain that she saw a hint of a smile at the corner of her mother's mouth. “As much as I dislike Logan, I can't deny that him knocking out a few of Zamon's teeth would have been a welcome sight Still, there's also catharsis in seeing a man break when he realizes he's lost.” She brushed a loose strand of hair away from Natalia's face. “No shade to our enemies, Natalia. Bring his crimes to light.”

“I will,” Natalia said. _And not just for us. For the people hurt by his treason. For Faren, for Hubert, for Jasmina's handmaiden._ She remembered what Zamon had said at her party and clenched her fists in silent fury. _For Debs._

* * *

The two of them met up with Anise and Logan in the Chamber of Ministers, where Anise was chatting with Logan with an excited expression on her face. “I haven't had this much fun since I discovered that the agriculture minister was stealing truffles.”

Logan chuckled. “I remember that blustery old fool,” he said. “He swore up and down that his pet pig had dug them up by accident.”

“The tricky part was telling him from his pig,” Anise said. She turned to face Natalia and Lady Solane as they approached. “And here are our guests of honor. Now then, my pet, are you ready to present the evidence?”

“I've been going over the evidence since the party,” Natalia replied. “Unless something goes horribly wrong or this entire thing is rigged to the Mists and back, he won't be able to argue his case.”

“That's good to hear,” Logan said. “At this rate, Queen Jennah's sure to notice you. If nothing else, I'll make sure your name reaches her ears.”

Anise nodded. “As will I. You've been quite helpful to the Shining Blade, and by extension the Crown,” she said. “Now, go. Minister Caudecus and the judicial scribe are waiting. Signal them when you're ready to begin. Good luck, my dear, and may Lyssa bless you with unparalleled eloquence.”

“Thank you, Countess.” Natalia shot a final glance at her mother, who gave her a firm nod of encouragement, before stepping up into the center of the chamber. She could see the various witnesses and curious citizens gathered around the edge of the chamber: Faren was fidgeting with one of his cufflinks, Lady Madeline was rubbing at her puffy, reddened eyes, and Cin Fursarai was boasting the expression of a man who would give everything he owned just for the chance to be somewhere else. And standing next to them all was Minister Zamon himself, accompanied by a towering Norn with red braids. For a brief second, Natalia's gaze met Zamon's, and a brief flash of cold fury swept over her. She pushed it aside and continued her assessment of the room.

Sitting at the podium was Minister Caudecus, an older man with a long, blond goatee and a thoroughly disinterested expression on his face. Standing at the base of the podium below him was the judicial scribe, a blindfolded woman clad in the white and gold robes of a priestess of Kormir. "Excuse me?" Natalia said, stepping closer so she could be more clearly heard.

The judicial scribe looked over in her general direction. “Yes?”

_Back straight, shoulders up, speak clearly and with conviction._ “My name is Natalia Solane. I'm here to present my case against Zamon in today's trial.”

The scribe nodded and raised her voice, catching the attention of both the surrounding witnesses and the jury of Ministers in the gallery. “Hear ye! The trial of Minister Julius Zamon is hereby called to order, Legate Minister Caudecus Beetlestone residing.” Upon hearing his name, Minister Caudecus straightened up slightly, though the bored expression never left his face. “Natalia Solane, you stand for the prosecution?”

“I do,” Natalia said. She turned to meet Caudecus's gaze. “Your Honor, we have evidence proving that Minister Zamon has conspired with known criminal elements against the citizens of Divinity's Reach. This man has abused his authority as Minister to commit thievery, murder, and treason. The prosecution will present key witness testimony from respected members of the community, including the sister of the accused, as well as incriminating documents that prove that the accused was in regular communication with the bandits responsible for the recent burglaries in both Salma District and Rurikton.”

“I see,” Minister Caudecus, imbuing his words with the excitement and enthusiasm of a schoolkid's yawn. “Well, Minister Zamon, the prosecution seems to have prepared quite a compelling case. Can you refute these accusations?”

Zamon scoffed. “Refute? Why bother?” He turned to the gallery. “My Lord Caudecus... my fellow Ministers... in accordance with the most ancient tenants of Krytan law, I invoke my right to trial by combat!”

A shocked murmur swept across the gallery. Natalia frantically looked to her mother, who was supporting a surprised expression of her own. Before she could object or even speak at all, Caudecus said, “The court accepts your invocation. By law and custom, you may choose a second to fight with you in the circle.”

Lady Solane stepped forward. “Legate Minister, you cannot possibly–”

“The right to a trial by combat will be observed,” Caudecus intoned. “Minister Zamon, do you have a second?”

"Indeed," Zamon said. He gestured to the Norn. "I choose my retainer, Eitel the Unlovable, as my second." He shot Natalia a smug smirk as if daring her to object to his choice. She simply stared at him. What was he hoping to accomplish with this stunt?

“Very well.” Caudecus returned to Natalia. “The prosecution must also nominate a principal and a second, or forfeit the case.”

Was that it, then? He was trying to goad her into dropping the charges and face the consequences of wasting the Ministry's time, rather than fight and risk losing. Well, she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her back down. If Zamon wanted a fight, he'd get it. “I will be the prosecution's principal, Legate Minister,” she said firmly. “I request a short recess to send for my weapon and select my second.”

“Granted,” Caudecus said. “When the prosecution is ready to continue, the court will reconvene and the trial by combat will begin.”

As soon as he finished speaking, all of the bravado and boldness that Natalia had been feeling only seconds prior left her body in one fell swoop. Feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her, she staggered over to where her mother, Logan, Anise, and now Faren were all waiting. "So," she said. "Remember how I said 'as long as nothing goes horribly wrong...?'"

“That slimy little coward!” Lady Solane fumed. “Trying to slip out away from his charges like that. Does he think he will be free from retaliation if he _murders my daughter?!_ ”

“Unfortunately, that's _exactly_ what he thinks,” Logan said. “Legally, at least. If he wins, he'll be declared innocent and all charges against him will be dropped.” His gaze darkened and his voice dropped to a dangerous mutter. “But even so... I might be a loyal servant of the crown, but if Zamon gets let off...”

"But how did he know about the right to combat?" Anise mused, her brows knitting together. "Zamon is no historian, and the right to a trial by combat hasn't been invoked in well over fifty years. Curious..." It might have been Natalia's imagination, but she was certain that Anise's gaze flickered over to Caudecus for the briefest of seconds.

"Well, however he found out about the law, he's invoked it," Natalia said. "There's nothing left to do but fight." She fished a small key out of one of her coat pockets and held it out towards Faren. "Faren, I need you to get my rifle for me. You remember where I keep it, right?"

“In the lockbox underneath your bed, of course,” Faren said, taking the key. “Don't worry, Natalia. I'll fetch your weapon, and then you can show this traitor a good what for!”

“Thank you. And just my rifle!” she called after him as he ran off. “Don't touch anything else, _especially_ the thing on my workbench! That's a new prototype, it's still unstable!” As Faren vanished from sight, she slumped against the nearest wall and sighed. _This was not how this was all supposed to go._

She knew this wasn't going to be easy. Zamon was always going to try and stack the game in his favor; that's how the game worked, after all, morals and justice be damned. It was why she had spent the past two weeks poring over every testimony and every letter with Countess Anise, why she had practiced her argument with her mother until she could say it in her sleep. She'd prepared for every possibility... except this one.

“As a Seraph captain, I can't really jump around saying, 'Pick me! Pick me!' But I can certainly _think_ it.”

Natalia looked up to see Logan standing next to her. “You really want a go at him, don't you?” she said wryly. “You've been itching to take a swing at him since I came back from the trading post with the information from Fursarai, I can tell.”  
“There's nothing I'd like more than to dish out the punishment that a traitor like Zamon deserves,” Logan admitted. “In the end, though, who you pick as your second is your choice.”

Natalia pushed herself away from the wall and stretched. “Well, far be it from me to deny you that opportunity,” she said, ignoring the appalled look her mother shot her out of the corner of her eye. “I'd be happy to have you as my second, should you be willing.” The expression on Logan's face indicated that he was more than eager to fight alongside her.

Natalia peered across the chamber at Zamon and his retainer, trying to get a read on both of them. “That Eitel man is big, but so is his hammer. Given the length of the haft, it'll be a slower swing. I can run circles around him. That'll give you the chance to deal with Zamon without worrying about a hammer to the skull.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You don't want to fight him?”

“It's not that I don't _want_ to fight him,” Natalia clarified. “Trust me, I want a chance at him just as much as you do. It's that I don't know what his skillset is, or if I can counter it. And I can't just throw a grenade at him and be done with it; something tells me the Ministry might _object_ to me blowing up their court. _You,_ on the other hand, have protective magic at your disposal. If he has a trick up his sleeve, you'll be more equipped to take it head-on than I am. Although...” She glanced over at Anise. “Healing magic is going to be forbidden in a fight like this, isn't it?”

Anise nodded. “It's considered against the spirit of the trial if one party can simply heal their way to victory,” she said.

“Which means that this” –Natalia unclipped her A.E.D. from her belt and tossed it to Anise– “is useless to me. Anything else you can tell me about Zamon?”

"Only that he's overstating the number of duels he's actually been victorious in." Lady Solane said. "After his little threat at the party, I was curious, so I chose to do some diffing. It turns out he's only fired a shot in three of his duels. Two of them ended in non-fatal injury."

“Which still means he's killed one man in a duel,” Natalia said. “Still, that leaves us in an advantage, at least as far as practical firearms experience goes.” Still, most of her experience was with clearing worms and fighting brigands, and she'd always had the freedom to use her explosives with relative abandon. Here, all she had was her rifle and her wits. No grenades, no mines, and no A.E.D.

Anise seemed to pick up on her apprehension. “You've also dealt with far bigger threats than his retainer,” she pointed out. “I have no doubt the Hero of Shaemoor will be able to hold her own in battle.”

Something about her newly-acquired name and what it meant – both to her and the people who had bestowed it upon her – put a bit of the steel back in Natalia's resolve. Anise was right; this was no different than the sage and his elemental. She hadn't known what to do at first, so she observed and improvised. She could do this same here. Problem-solving was something that engineers excelled at, after all. “All right,” she said with a determined nod. “So it's settled; Logan will focus on Zamon, and I'll focus on the retainer.”

After that, it didn't take long for Faren to return, bearing Natalia's rifle and fortunately not looking like he'd just blown himself up my poking something he shouldn't have. Natalia took her weapon with a grateful smile, and together with Logan stepped out into the center of the main chamber. “Legate Minister, I have secured my weapon and chosen my second,” she said. “Captain Logan Thackeray will be fighting alongside me today.

Hrmph. An interesting choice," Minister Caudecus said, giving Logan a sharp look. He raised his voice to address the gallery. "Let it be known that the duel will continue until both the principal and second of one side surrender or are defeated. If the defendant, Minister Julius Zamon, proves victorious, these charges against him will be dropped and cannot be brought against him again. However, should the prosecuting party, Lady Natalia Solane, be the victor, the defendant shall be found guilty of these crimes and dealt the appropriate punishment. Does the prosecution accept?"

“I do,” Natalia said.

“Good. Will Minister Zamon and his appointed second step forward into the center of the chamber?”

Zamon did so, his retainer trailing behind him. “I hope you remembered to say farewell to your mother, _Hero_ ,” he sneered. “And Captain, I hope you bid your final goodbyes to the queen this morning as well. Only one of us will be leaving this chamber alive today.”

Natalia saw Logan bristle out of the corner of her eye. “Funny,” she said. “I count _two_ people who will be leaving this chamber. Three, if your retainer wises up and surrenders.” Her gaze sharpens. “Of course, it doesn't have to be like that. You can admit still your guilt and face the court's verdict.”

Zamon scoffed as he drew his sword and pistol. “Surrender? Don't be absurd. Why should I bend knee to a couple of low-blooded dogs like you?”

“Because the courts would be a lot more lenient than us,” Logan snapped.

"My victory is assured, Captain," Zamon said. "It's your own neck you should be concerned for."

The four combatants took their places. Minister Caudecus's voice echoed throughout the chamber. “The trial by combat shall now begin. Good luck to you all, and may justice prevail.”

No sooner had Caudecus finished speaking then Zamon lifted his pistol and started firing. Having expected this, Natalia dove out of the way just as Logan threw up a reflective barrier, rolling to a stop and turning her attention to the retainer. Eitel the Unlovable met her gaze with an icy impassivity and brought his hammer off his shoulder as he lumbered towards her. Natalia and Logan shared a brief glance and a nod of understanding before the two ran off towards their respective quarries; Logan drawing his blade and charging towards Zamon, and Natalia circling around Eitel.

Her previous assessment of the Norn's capacity had been accurate; he was powerful enough to put a crack in the floor when he brought his hammer down, but he needed a second to build up his swing. She refused to allow him that second, dodging and weaving between his strikes before aiming a sharp blow to his back with the butt of her rifle. He swayed for a second but didn't stagger. Instead, he whirled around and cracked the haft of his hammer directly into her ribs.

Natalia hit the ground, gasping for breath, the wind knocked out of her. Looming over her, Eitel brought his hammer down in a sweeping overhead blow that she just barely managed to roll away from, the stone beneath where her head had been just a couple moments ago. Her heart pounded against her still-aching ribs. He was tough, too tough for her to just smack him around with a couple of melee blows. _I might have to shoot him._ Norn were all bulk, so she could probably get off a non-lethal shot. She'd just need a couple of seconds to...

_“Natalia!”_

Natalia whirled around at the sound of Logan's voice, only to be blasted backward several feet by a burst of flame and hot air. Now her chest was aching _and_ seared. Coughing weakly, she pulled herself off the ground to face Minister Zamon, whose outstretched fingertips still crackled with the last wisps of magical energy. _An elementalist,_ she realized. A master of offensive elemental magic. She shot an accusing stare at Anise, as if to say, _why didn't you tell me about this?_ The only response she got was a shrug.

This posed a problem on two fronts. The look in Zamon's eyes was murderous, and he was using his fire magic to create a circle of flames to keep Logan from getting too close while he blasted the area around Natalia. Between dodging the fires and dodging Eitel's hammer, she wasn't going to survive long, much less get in a hit of her own. She'd have to switch it up. _Zamon wants a fight? I'll give him one._ “Logan, switch!” she shouted. Logan caught her gaze and nodded in understanding, and turned to charge towards Eitel just as she kicked her rocket boots on and propelled herself through the flames, landing directly in front of Minister Zamon.

He was waiting for her, lashing out with a sword strike that skimmed against her coat as she jumped back. She wasn't in as good a position to dodge with the ring of fire surrounding them and her injuries slowing her down, but she made do, dancing away from his blade and even managed to knock his pistol from his hand with a well-aimed kick as he drew it to fire. That small victory came at a cost of its own, however, when Zamon grabbed her outstretched ankle and shot a bolt of electricity up her leg.

The pain, followed by a cold numbness, sent her staggering backward, gritting her teeth and struggling to stay standing. Zamon followed up with a swing of his sword that she just barely managed to block with her rifle. Not letting up, he pushed his sword against the barrel of her gun, forcing her to lean back far enough where she could feel the heat of the surrounding blaze against her back. "You must think so highly of yourself," he snarled. "How the people cheer when they hear your name. Natalia Solane, the great Hero of Shaemoor." He pushed closer, the edge of his blade inching dangerously close to her face. _Just a couple more seconds... wait for an opening..._ “You are _nothing._ You're just a dressed up street-rat with delusions of nobility, just like your sister. And you'll meet the same fate she did.”

_Now._ “Maybe you're right,” Natalia replied, bracing herself and pushing back against his sword. “Maybe I am all those things. But do you know what else I am?”

A look of irate confusion flickered across Zamon's face, and he let up the pressure in their deadlock for the briefest moment. Natalia seized her opportunity; she twisted to the side, smacking Zamon's wrist with the butt of her rifle in just the right way so as to loosen his grip and send his sword spinning out of his hands. “I'm _also_ smart enough to disarm my enemies _before_ I enter point blank!” Natalia shouted, bringing her rifle around to aim directly at him. “Stand down, Zamon. Surrender and face the court's punishment. Last chance.”

Zamon's lips twisted into a furious sneer, and he raised his hand, a crackle of flames appearing at his fingertips. Before he had a chance to fire a spell, however, Natalia pulled the trigger, the resulting gunshot deafening in the marble chamber they stood in. The crackle of the flames around them seemed to grow silent, and for a single second it was just the two of them, her with a determined glare and smoke drifting off the muzzle of her gun, and him with a look of shock on his face and blood pouring from his chest. Zamon toppled backward and hit the ground with a sickening crack, and the flames flickered and died out, leaving only silence and ash in their wake.

Natalia knelt down next to Zamon, who was still fighting to prolong his final breaths. “Let me tell you something, Zamon,” she said, quietly. “I hope you're right. I hope I _do_ die like Deborah, because she died fighting to protect people. She died doing what she thought was right, not to try and escape the consequences of her own selfish crimes.”

Zamon stared her in the eye, blood bubbling on his lips as he let out a rasping chuckle. “Even now, you think yourself better. Just like the... _hrk_... woman who raised you.” He coughed. “We all have our masters, _Hero_ , even you. It's just that mine wasn't...” His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he let out a final, shuddering gasp before falling limp.

Natalia furrowed her brow. Master? What did that mean? She'd assumed that he was the puppetmaster commanding the brigands, but did he have strings of his own? Before she could truly mull over his words, however, she was being yanked to her feet and pulled into a smothering hug by her mother. “Mom!” she exclaimed. “I'm fine, I'm fine. Hurt some ribs, but I'm fine.”

“You'd damn well better be,” her mother replied, slightly muffled due to the face that her face was half-buried against Natalia's shoulder; one of the disadvantages of having a daughter several inches taller than her. “If you weren't, I would be _very_ cross.”

“I promise I'm all right, Mom. Though... maybe ease up on the hugging. Like I said, my ribs are a little, uh... not great right now.”

“Ah.” Lady Solane pulled back and turned her attention to Zamon's body, her gaze turning to ice as she glared down at him. “I know I shouldn't say it, but... I'm glad he's dead. He brought nothing but shame to the Ministry and the nobility.”

“For once, we're in agreement.” Logan drew closer, hair ruffled and forehead shining with a thin layer of sweat, but otherwise uninjured. “Glad to see you're still in one piece, Solane.”

"Same to you," Natalia replied. She peered over his shoulder at the still form of Eitel the Unlovable, crumpled in a heap on the ground. "Is he...?"

"Unconscious," Logan said. "I didn't think it would be fair to take his life. Whatever crimes his master committed, as far as I know, he's just a mercenary. We'll take him in for questioning and try him if he had any role in the burglaries. But in the end, I think he was just a hired retainer."

_Speaking of masters..._ Natalia opened her mouth to tell them what Zamon had said in his final moments, but Minister Caudecus's echoing voice cut her off before she had the chance. “Victory is declared,” he said, his voice a little sharper than it had been before the duel. “As per the tenets of Krytan law, Minister Zamon is found guilty of conspiracy with known criminals, arranged burglary and kidnapping, conspiracy against the crown, and attempted treason. The court may disperse.”

He shot a pointed stare at the three in the center of the chamber, and Lady Solane quickly nudged Natalia and Logan back to the sidelines where Faren and Anise waited. “My word!” Faren exclaimed breathlessly. “That was quite the show, old friend. For a moment there I was worried you were going to end up in a hospice bed again. Or, dare I say it, a mausoleum. That'll show me for doubting your skill!”

Anise, on the other hand, was focused on the podium. “Minister Caudecus didn't seem too happy with the proceedings,” she mused, on finger tapping her chin in idle thought.

“Caudecus doesn't like anything that infringes on the power the ministers have, especially in the courts,” Logan said. “He would have found a way to serve a more lenient sentence to Zamon, or twist the evidence to his favor, but trial by combat took the judgment out of his hands.”

“Did it?” Anise countered. “How do you think Zamon knew about the ancient law in the first place? It hasn't been invoked since before most of us were born, and he's no historian.”

Logan's eyes widened as he caught on to what Anise was saying. “You're not saying that Caudecus advised Zamon about the right to combat? Caudecus is slimy as an eel, but could he really be capable of conspiracy like that?”

Natalia shifted on her feet. “She might be right,” she said. “When Zamon was dying, he... said something that caught my attention.” She relayed Zamon's last words, watching the faces in front of her grow more concerned. “But if it's true...”

“Then it's possible that this conspiracy stretches farther than both of them,” Lady Solane said. “Maybe even the entire Ministry; there have been conflicts between them and the crown in recent memory.”

"Think about it," Anise said. "If Zamon won the battle, he'd be declared innocent, and all evidence against him would have to be dropped. Now he's guilty, but he's also dead. The best scapegoat is the one that can't bleat. Caudecus is slimy, but he didn't get where he is now by being stupid. Don't underestimate him."

"I'll tell the Seraph in Beetletun to keep an eye out for anything suspicious," Logan said. He turned to Natalia. "In the meantime, you should get some rest. There's sure to be more work for us soon" –if he saw the way Lady Solane's brow rose at that, he ignored it– "and you've been through a lot these past several days. You deserve it."

“Thank you, Captain,” Natalia said. “And thanks for the help. I don't know if I could have done it without you.”

"I don't know about that. You've certainly proven yourself worthy of your title, Hero of Shaemoor." Logan clapped her on the shoulder. "Now go. I'm sure we'll have plenty of chances to talk again soon."

* * *

Later that evening, after getting her ribs taped up by a local priestess, Natalia walked in on her mother briskly pacing in the parlor, a concerned look on her face. “Still worried about what Anise said?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame.

"Of course I am," Lady Solane responded. "The nobility here in Divinity's Reach see Caudecus for the weasel he is, but to the rest of Kryta, he's a damn hero. Especially in Beetletun; the town wouldn't be half as prosperous without him. If I tried to use politics to take him down, I would be seen as the villain. Nothing is more dangerous than an enemy with a good reputation, Natalia, remember that."

“Oh, I don't know, a villain with good aim might do the trick,” Natalia said. “Kidding!” she added when her mother turned to glare at her.

"Yes, well, Caudecus might very well have both." Lady Solane shook her head. "I'm getting ahead of myself. It's still very possible that any agitation on Caudecus's part was simply due to how the trial played out. I don't think any of the ministers in the gallery were expecting Zamon to call for trial by combat. Speaking of which, I hope you don't intend on making a habit out of dueling. I didn't teach you how to fire a gun for you to go waving it around at every problem you see."

“Fighting Zamon wasn't exactly fun for me, Mom,” Natalia said. “Cathartic, yes, but not fun.” She shrugged. “Not that politics are ever fun, but still.” She stretched, wincing as her ribs ached in protest. “I should turn in for the night. I haven't had a good night's rest in a week, and I hurt in ways I didn't know I could hurt. That retainer had a mean pommel swing, I'll give him that much.”

As she turned to leave the room, her mother called after her. “Natalia.”

Natalia turned around. “Mm?”

Her mother looked almost sheepish, arms folded over her chest and gaze turned towards the floorboards. “You know I don't approve of you trying to play the hero. It's reckless and it's going to get you far more than a few cracked ribs one day. But...” she took a deep breath. “I'm proud of what you did today. You showed the world what happens when you make an enemy out of a Solane. And... I believe your sister would be proud of you, too. I know she would be.”

Natalia's breath caught in her throat. “I-I...” She quickly turned back around and began to walk away. “T-thank you. Good night. I love you.”

“I love you too, Natalia.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 7:30 in the morning and I Am Tired. Not much to say about this chapter.


	7. The Family Dilemma

It had been a long time since Logan had the chance to go on a patrol route through the city itself. He had missed it.

It was a beautiful day; the sky was a rich, clear azure, and the late spring breeze brought with it the soft din of people going about their business in the city's promenade streets. A pair of children raced past him, too caught up in a game of tag to even notice him, and a fellow Seraph gave him a respectful nod as they passed each other that he gladly returned. It was comforting, getting away from the stress and the paperwork that came with being Captain of the Seraph.

A few weeks had passed since the incident with Zamon, and things had returned to some semblance of normal. The questions about Minister Caudecus's possible involvement still weighed on them all, and Anise was spending more of her time in the Seraph offices, music to him about possible motivations and alliances among the Ministry. But the gossip that had sprung from Zamon's arrest and subsequent trial was starting to die down, and he was no longer getting looks from curious passers-by. _Well_ , he thought, noticing a young man and woman shooting him coy glances and whispering eagerly to each other, _not looks related to the trial, at least._

While he'd been eager to jump at the chance for a patrol when it had been offered to him, Logan was quickly finding that there was little to do in the promenade beyond watching the city folk go about their daily lives. Ever since the burglaries had stopped, Divinity's Reach had once again become the safest place in Kryta. The real danger lay outside the walls. Bandits and centaurs plagued the roads further south, making the Kessex Hills even less safe for traveling. Bloodtide Coast only barely counted as Krytan territory, but it had troubles of its own, between the pirates on the coast and the wurms in the fringe of the jungle.

And then there was Zhaitan. Just thinking the dragon's name made Logan's blood run cold. If the reports from his soldiers were any indication, Zhaitan's reach was rapidly expanding; Risen forces had been spotted as far north as Lychcroft Mere. He knew that Divinity's Reach wouldn't be able to withstand a full undead assault if it came down to it. He just hoped that it wouldn't.

He hoped that things wouldn't end up like they did when...

Logan quickly shook his head. He didn't want to think about that right now. Or ever, really. He turned his attention to the communal stations in an attempt to distract himself from that line of thought.

He found his distraction in the form of a flash of dark emerald leather near the chef's station. Curious, he took a few steps closer and was surprised to see Natalia Solane at one of the tables, rolling pin in one hand and a half-rolled pile of dough in front of her. "Didn't think you were the cooking sort," he said.

Natalia jumped at his voice and whirled to look at him. There was a smear of flour across her forehead, the white powder standing out against the tawny hue of her skin. Logan wondered if she knew it was there. “Logan!” she exclaimed. “Didn't expect to see you out and about.”

“I could say the same for you,” Logan said. He nodded to the dough at the table. “You don't normally see nobles toiling over a cooking station.”

Natalia shrugged. “It's not so different from engineering, is it?” she pointed out. “Put the components together and create something new and useful. And, in this case, delicious.” She turned back to the table and resumed her task of rolling the dough flat. “I've been thinking about trying a new recipe for a while now. The blueberry harvests are just now starting to hit their peak, so I decided I'd take advantage of that and bake some tarts.”

Truth be told, Logan wasn't _that_ surprised to see her toiling over an oven. He remembered Deborah having a bad habit of smuggling cookies and other baked sweets into the barracks, despite his numerous admonishments, and it only made sense that she'd gotten them from her sister. What surprised him was that she was toiling over this oven in particular. The Solane estate wasn't the largest in the city, no, but _surely_ they had a kitchen. “Why not cook them at home?” he asked.

Something like discomfort flickered in Natalia's eyes, and she quickly ducked her head down to avoid his gaze. “It's a beautiful day outside. Can't blame a woman for wanting to enjoy the weather.” The words came out uncharacteristically clipped and dismissive.

If Logan hadn't suspected that something was off before, he certainly did now. “Is everything all right, Solane?”

"I..." Natalia hesitated. "Y-yes, everything is... I mean, it's not... but it's..." After a few seconds of anxious stammering, she finally let out a sigh and put down the rolling pin. "My mother and I," she said in a sullen tone as she leaned against the table, "got into another disagreement earlier today. I decided I needed to busy myself until I calmed down, and I don't want to be in the same house as her right now, so..." She gestured around her. "Here we are."

 _Ah._ Suddenly everything made sense. “Was it about...?”

“Deborah? The Seraph? Me having the audacity to go out and actually try and solve the problems plaguing the people instead of just helping them after their livelihoods have already been destroyed?” Natalia was angry now. “Yes, as a matter of fact, it was, because my mother cannot seem to comprehend that I am well aware of the risks I am taking and choose these risks because I want to _protect_ people!” She deflated slightly. “I'm sorry. I just... I know she loves me and just wants me to be safe. And I love her too. But I _can't_ just stand aside when people are in danger. Not when the centaurs are...”

Logan made his way up the steps to the station, leaning against a nearby pillar. “The incident in Shaemoor wasn't the first time you ran off to fight centaurs, was it?”

Natalia shook her head. “Every since Deborah died, I've been going out into the Heartwoods and fighting Tamini. A lot of it is to keep Claypool safe; they're not as well-protected as Beetletun, so they need all the help they can get. But I won't deny that part of it is selfishness. Every time I take down a centaur, I think, 'Maybe _that_ was the one who killed Debs.'" She rubbed her arm. "I'm no fool. I know that what I do isn't exactly safe. But Deborah was willing to take the same risks. Even more so; she became a _soldier._ She made it her job to protect people, even if it meant she might die. If I spend the rest of my life hiding inside the city walls and waiting for someone else to deal with things, it'll be as good as spitting on her grave.”

“Then why do you let what your mother says affect you?” Logan asked pointedly. “It hasn't stopped you before. Why now?”

He wasn't prepared for the scathing glare Natalia shot his way. “Why I'm upset has nothing to do with that!” she snapped. “She's my mother, I don't want to be constantly fighting with her! I want to be able to eat dinner in my own house without Deborah's death tinting our conversations! I want to be able to talk about my blueprints without Mother wringing her hands over my _safety_ ! I just want...” Her voice broke slightly, and she quickly looked away, an embarrassed pink burning across her cheeks. “I want things to go back to the way they were before. I want my mom back. I want _Debs_ back.”

Logan was taken aback by her sudden outburst. Lady Solane was respected by the people, yes, but never loved or defended, not in the way that the Wi family or even Caudecus were. “Oh. I'm... sorry. I didn't mean to assume anything.”

“Mom might be ruthless in her businesses,” Natalia said bitterly, turning her focus back to her baking, “but she's not cold-hearted. She's a better person than people think she is.”

“I see.” Logan didn't doubt that, not anymore. If nothing else, it was clear that Lady Solane loved her daughters. “She might want to show that side to other people, then.”

Natalia wiped her hand across her forehead, leaving another smear of flour across her forehead. “Well, you certainly wouldn't be the first to misjudge her,” she sighed. Her expression was still grim, but the harshness had faded from her voice. “Anyways, I really should get back to work. It's bad form to leave dough uncooked for too long, you know.”

“Right, of course,” Logan said, a deadpan smile on his face. “Wouldn't want it to get out that the Hero of Shaemoor is a poor cook.”

The corner of Natalia's mouth quirked upwards. “And we wouldn't want it known that Captain Thackeray neglected his duties to have a quick chat at the communal stations.” She waved him off with the rolling pin. “You _were_ on a patrol, right?”

“I was. It was good talking to you again, Solane.”

“You too, Thackeray.”

* * *

_Six months prior_

* * *

He didn't want to do this. Gods, he didn't want to be the one to have to tell her.

Logan stood on the steps of the Solane estate, fist barely an inch from the door. He couldn't quite bring himself to knock, not with the weight of the tags in his other hand weighing him down like this.

A set of dirtied, bent Seraph tags. That was all they found of her, among the corpses and the violence. There was no body to bring home to her family. No hints that she had died heroically. Just a set of tags with her name on it. He'd cleaned the blood off, but the story they told was still stained into the metal, into the large dent almost certainly caused by a centaur hoof and the hint of rust already starting to appear on the edges. That would never wash off.

He didn't want to do this.

Taking a deep breath, Logan finally found the strength to knock on the door. For a second there was no response, and he was about to consider the pros and cons of returning back to his office and delivering the new via a letter of condolences when the door swung open to reveal a portly man with graying hair. Not who he needed. “Why, Captain Thackeray!” the man exclaimed. “What a surprise, seeing you here. Is everything all right?”

No, everything _wasn't_ all right. “Is Lady Solane home?” Logan asked, trying to mask the fatigue in his voice.

The man looked taken aback, his brows furrowing. “I... yes, she's in her study. Why, has something happened with young Miss Deborah?”

“Please, can I talk to Lady Solane?”

“O-of course, sir.” Now the man looked especially concerned. “I'll go fetch her right away. In the meantime, please come in.” He stood to the side to let Logan enter. “The drawing room is to your left. Please feel free to take a seat. I'll be sure to have some tea prepared for you.”

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Logan said as he crossed the threshold. "I don't think I'll be staying very long."

The man gave him a long, inquisitive look before quickly heading off, presumably in the direction of the study. In the meantime, Logan made his way to the drawing room. It was peaceful in there, with the dust motes slowly floating across the beams of sunlight streaming through the half-open curtains. He didn't take a seat, instead settling near the window and watching the people outside go about their daily lives. Between the centaurs, the bandits, and the dragon threat looming to the south, he wondered, how many of them would he have to visit before this all was over?

A creaking floorboard near the drawing room's opposite entrance caught his attention. He turned to see if Lady Solane had arrived, but he didn't see anyone. “Hello?” he called out, taking a few steps towards the open doorway. He _swore_ he'd heard something.

“Captain Thackeray?”

He whirled around to see Lady Solane standing at the main entrance, her arms folded primly across her chest and a wary expression on her face as she regarded him. “What brings you here today?” She asked. “Is it something to do with Deborah?”

And here it was. “You could say that, yes,” Logan said, approaching her. “Sergeant Solane's regiment, the Falcon Company, was assigned to a patrol route in Kessex Hills. During one of their patrols, they were... ambushed.”

Lady Solane's eyes widened before narrowing to fine points. “And my daughter was among the survivors?” she asked. It wasn't a genuine question. Rather, it was both a plea and a threat, a warning to him not to tell her what they both knew he had to.

He held out his hand, offering the bent tags he'd held within. “No. There were no survivors. I... I'm sorry.”

Lady Solane stared at the tags. Her face was frozen into an expression of shock, and the only sign that she was still responsive to his presence at all was the way her fingers dug into her arms. For the longest time, neither of them moved, not until a clattering noise from the other doorway caught both of their attention. Logan and Lady Solane turned just in time to see a flash of emerald green, followed by the fading _thmp-thmp-thmp_ of boots colliding against a flight of stairs. “Natalia!” Lady Solane called out, rushing forward.

Logan's eyes fell upon the source of the clatter, a single screwturner on the ground. Deborah had told him about her younger sister's skill as an engineer. _Damn it._ He turned to Lady Solane, who had her back faced to him and was gripping the side of the doorway hard enough to whiten the dark skin of her knuckles. “Sergeant Solane was one of the best soldiers we've ever had,” he said. “I'm sorry for your loss. If there's anything you need–”

“Need?” Lady Solane whirled to face him. Her eyes were alight with fury. “What I _need_ is to have my daughter back _home,_ alive and _safe!_ If you cannot provide me with that, Captain–” her voice dropped dangerously low “–then I never want to see you in my house again.” With that, she left the room, rounding the corner with another cry of “Natalia!” and leaving Logan alone.

He looked back down at the tags in his hand. Broken, bloodstained, and all a grieving family had left. “I'm sorry,” he repeated to the empty room as he placed the tags down on the nearest table and left.

* * *

_Present_

* * *

“Is something the matter, Logan? You look so _dour_.”

“I'd suggest that you go see if Jennah needs you for something,” Logan muttered, not looking up from his paperwork, “but something tells me you're already with her.”

He could feel Anise's smirk. “Being a mesmer does provide a certain level a flexibility in a person's schedule,” she said. After a few seconds, an illusory pink butterfly fluttered into Logan's field of vision and landed on his hand. “You didn't answer my question.”

Logan sighed, waving the illusion away and leaning back in his chair. He met Anise's gaze and was greeted with a raised brow and silver-blue eyes full of intrigue. “I'm just... thinking,” he said. “Nothing important.”

“About the Hero?”

“How did you...” Logan shook his head. “Never mind, I know how you knew. If you must know, I was mostly thinking about her mother. Trying to... see things from her perspective. I don't forgive her for how she's treated my soldiers since Deborah died, but...” he shrugged.

"She's a cold woman, Logan. She always has been. She's had to be." Anise sat down next to him, and he pretended not to notice that she was using their conversation as an excuse to read through his papers over his shoulder. "The Solane family is relatively young, and its position among the nobility is shaky. There are some who see her charity as acts of political maneuvering, but there are others still who recognize the genuine intent behind them and believe her weak and manipulable. She has to spend every moment she can proving both groups wrong." Anise waved a hand and made the butterfly dance around them in a circle a few times before settling on her outstretched finger. "I suspect that her daughters are the only people who have ever seen her for how she truly is."

Logan shot her a pointed look. “ _You_ seem to know a great deal about 'how she truly is,'” he said. “Or is this all speculation?”

“There is an element of intuition involved, yes,” Anise admitted. “But I'm confident in my assessment; one can't be the leader of the Shining Blade by being _bad_ at reading people." She glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and the subtext was clear. “Is that really all that troubles you, Logan?”

“That isn't enough?” he asked.

She simply stared at him in response.

Logan sighed. “I sent some scouts out to Kessex Hills, to try and find anything that might shed some light on what exactly happened to Falcon Company,” he said. “I know it's been six months, but... I don't know. Maybe they'll find something.”

"Of course you did. You see a bit of yourself in her, don't you, Logan? A younger sibling, fighting to fill to shoes of an older sibling gone too soon." Anise stood up, a ghost of a smirk lingering in her voice even as her face straightened out into an impassive neutrality. "You should pay a bit more attention to the present than the past. You misspelled a word." She pressed a finger against the requisition form he'd been working on for the past hour. "How sloppy of you."

And with that, she left, leaving Logan to curse and hastily rectify his mistake. His mind, however, was still distracted, this time by Anise's words. Had she been right? Was he so torn up by the loss of Falcon Company and Natalia's grief because of his own loss? A memory burst forth from the shadowed corners of his mind, and for a moment he was back in Ebonhawke, cradling his older brother in his arms in his last moments. His jaw unconsciously clenched. _Dylan..._ He'd taken up Dylan's sword and his place as the Commander of the Seraph because he'd wanted to be a hero to the crown the same way his older brother was. And here Natalia was, expressing the same desire. No wonder it'd stuck with him.

Leave it to Anise to figure him out before he could figure himself out.

He continued on with his work, this time making sure to frequently double back and check for any errors. It was several hours later, when he'd finally finished the last of his paperwork, that the office door swung open to reveal a red-faced, short-breathed Seraph scout. “Captain Thackeray!” the scout panted. “We found... we found something. Something about Falcon Company.” He brandished a leather-bound journal, worn down by age and weather. “You need to read it, sir.”

Brows furrowed, Logan stood up and made his way to the scout, who handed him the journal without hesitation. It was old, and most of the pages had been destroyed by dirt and rain, but there were still a few legible passages, and as the words held within began to register in his mind his expression went from confusion to shock. “Are you sure this is real?” he demanded.

The scout nodded. “We found it south of the Queen's Forest. But, Captain...” He wavered slightly. “It's been six months. Even if there were survivors of the initial attack...”

He wasn't wrong to worry. Logan himself knew that the odds of finding any survivors were slim. But even so, his thoughts kept getting dragged back to the Solanes. To Natalia's weary expression earlier that afternoon. To the mixture of fury and grief in Lady Solane's face as she'd cast him out of her house six months ago. To Deborah's tears of pride as she'd been given her Seraph badge.

“It's something,” he said. “Thank you, soldier. I need to take this somewhere.”

“Where, sir?”

Logan headed towards the door. “The Solane estate.”

* * *

Tea time in the Solane drawing room had been a little awkward for the past few months, but now the tension stretched taut over the silent room like a heavy blanket. Both Natalia and her mother kept their gazes focused very pointedly focused on their individual cups, neither quite willing to swallow their pride and speak.

It was Hubert, who'd been lingering in the corner and watching the scene refuse to unfold, who finally spoke. “Was your walk earlier a pleasant one, Lady Natalia?”

“It was,” Natalia said. “I got some work done.”

“That's good. And what about you, milady?” He turned to Lady Solane. “I know you've been organizing that charity event to help raise funds for the Lionsguard. Has that been going well?”

Lady Solane raised a knowing eyebrow but didn't comment on Hubert's increasingly transparent ploy. "It has," she said instead.

Hubert hummed approvingly. “Well, I hear that Lady Natalia was down at the communal cooking station today. Perhaps she might be able to cook something for the event?”

For the first time since their row earlier that day, Natalia met her mother's gaze. The two of them both had to fight back a smile over Hubert's blatant attempts to ease the awkwardness. “I wouldn't mind doing that,” Natalia said, wisely choosing to bite back a sharp remark about how there was more she could be doing to aid the Lionsguard in their fight against the Risen forces. She didn't want to open that wound again tonight.

Lady Solane opened her mouth to reply, but they were cut off by a heavy knock on the door. “I'll go get that,” Hubert said, stepping out of the room and leaving the two women in silence once. This time, however, the silence was not born out of tension, but curiosity, as they both strained to overhear what was going on at the front door. Natalia caught a shocked murmur from Hubert, intertwined with a second voice she couldn't quite make out. After a few seconds, Hubert appeared in the doorway again, looking much more flustered than he had but a second ago. “M-Milday? With your permission...?

Lady Solane narrowed her eyes. “What's all this about?”

“Well, it's just...” Hubert stepped aside, allowing a second, familiar figure to step into view.

For a moment, it was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop as Lady Solane's expression turn from wary confusion to barely-restrained hostility. “Captain Thackeray,” she said. “I believe I made myself clear the last time you stood in this room.”

“If I remember correctly,” Logan replied, “you told me you didn't want me in your house unless I could bring you your daughter, alive and safe.” It was then that Natalia noticed the weathered journal in his hands.

“Yes, I did,” Lady Solane said, standing up. “So what reason do you have for darkening my door now?”

“Well,” Logan replied as he stepped forward and tossed the journal onto the table in front of them. “I can't promise that Sergeant's Solane's _safe_ , but... she just might be alive.”

Natalia stared at the journal. It felt impossible; she'd misheard him, that had to be it. She couldn't get her hopes up. But even as she tried to tell herself that, it was hard to suppress the torrent of feelings that bubbled up deep within her. _She can't... it's been so long, she couldn't be..._

_...Debs?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critical Role has devoured my soul and most of my bodily organs so that's why it took me over three months two write 4000 words. WELP. Hopefully next chapter won't take as long.
> 
> Also I'm trying something different with flashbacks. Tell me how it works.


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